


What's Next?

by WikiMB



Series: What's Next? [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Awkward Father-Son Relationship, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic Violence in Ch. 1, Graphic Violence in Ch. 13, Graphic Violence in Ch. 4, Graphic Violence in Ch. 6, Guilt, Mental Journey, Nightmares, No Sex, Overcoming Trauma, Possible Redemption, Post-DMC5, Psychological Trauma, Regret, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-11-01 21:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20516501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WikiMB/pseuds/WikiMB
Summary: When both Dante and Vergil escape hell - the legendary devil hunter comes back to his old duties, while his nephew recruittes his own father to work along with him. Perhaps to only keep an eye on him. In this new reality the freshly recruited devil hunter faces challenges of getting along with his own family members, working on his fatherhood and then dealing with profession related problems to solve. Does Vergil work towards fixing his past crimes or decide to ignore them?





	1. Everything Starts at the Source

**Author's Note:**

> While I did everything to make this story work there is something what I have to admit - the fact I'm not a native English speaker and during writing this story I could really feel that. So I apologize for any mistakes found, at least I hope the mere idea is entertaining enough.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V is challenged to fix his own mistakes commited long time ago in the past. The horrible mistakes, which brought destruction to the people around him and in the end made him a person, who he stopped recognizing. There is no a different way to change it than to face the truth he was avoiding for so long.

This place seemed to be familiar except its current condition was ruins of once stately, gothic buildings and covered with a cloak of darkness. That used to be a more colorful, lively and cleaner area – once acting as if it was truly alive. But at that moment its current image only reminded of a corpse of what it was like on its prime - damaged itself altogether and so its formerly beautiful streets, roads and buildings, which were also additionally dislocated, what distorted the whole landscape of it. Without its characteristic spots of certain statues it would be unrecognizeable for its inhabitant. Despite this fact it still triggered many, vivid memories – the ones worth smiling but also the ones, which put you down when recalled. Yet, that known area brought up mostly bitter, gray feelings just like in the way it was preseting itself. That was the old home – Redgrave City.

„Are ya really sure about this, V?” the cocky sounding but concerned voice broke that dead silence. It belonged to Griffon – a majestic, demonic bird. He was sitting on the man’s tattoed arm, who he mentioned.

„I have run away too many times. I have to see this through. I have enough of strength to do it finally.” V’s voice expressed strong determination what his face reflected as well. He was not even looking at the bird when he spoke that because of how his mind was consumed by his goal instead. Almost as if these words were directed to him not his winged companion.

„Just remember you can always go back and wait until you feel strong enough.” Griffon added.

„Yes, but the more time passes the stronger Urizen gets and the weaker I become. I must finally stop him.” through V’s voice exhaustion could be heard because of the way he heavily sighed while saying that. „To weaken him I have to face what he always tried to hide from me. I was too scared so I created him and then I lost control over him. That let him grow stronger… This is my fault and this is me who have to fix it.”

V’s face gazed at the distant view of the ruined house, which was placed farther away from the ruins of the town. That was his family house – the place in which his carefree life had started and then had been brutally ended by that one unfortunate demon massacre. This mentioned residency was placed on the high cliff, which seemed to be hard to reach from the first glance. It was how Urizen had purposely shaped it to make it almost unreachable for V. Was the physical difficulty a real issue for V? It was rather his own mental barrier stopping him to face the truth hidden there for decades.

„Before we ended up split I couldn’t even recognize and even see this place. My memories were almost wiped out by Urizen. ” V commented on the view he was watching.

He took a confident step towards his place of destination. Even if he still felt almost paralyzing fear manifesting as stomach cramps and muscles trembling the closer he approached it but he knew he could feel safe. He knew he had a support. Of who? Of what? Somebody, who he used to find ridiculous, weak and a hurdle for him but at that moment he realized how much an important person he was and regretted that he underappreciated him for most of his life. Perhaps his fate would have turned out entirely different if he had not been so blinded by his own pride.

The path he had to cross was not as welcoming as it seemed from the distance. The danger awaiting for him there included mostly demonic-like, primitive enemies attacking him in groups. The risk of harm and death could not be disregarded, while beating these creatures. V was a young but physically weak man, what manifested as his hunched posture and the need to use a cane. One demon did not have to execute much movement and damage to kill such a fragile human. Although that was not what made V fearful. He could easily defend himself and defeat them with a help of his own friendly demons – Griffon, Shadow and Nightmare. Definitely clearing the path from the demons was slowing him down but that would not be a reason for V to complain about – he actually found it a way to buy more time for preparation. What he was about to see was scaring him more than these creepy, deformed, stinky creatures.

Getting on the cliff was not as difficult as the impression it made from the distance. All he needed was to summon his demonic, flying pet – Griffon and use his strength to convey himself on his marvelous, wide wings. The man rose his arm to catch demonic bird’s leg and let Griffon carry him away, where he wanted. When V finally landed on the cliff his anxiety started to really catching up with him. It was noticeable to the point when the visible concern for him arose around his own familiars. That was why before he continued his journey Griffon interrupted V with a small talk he began himself.

„If you’re not ready to see what’s inside the house, just tell me.” through Griffon’s voice care and worry could be heard for his owner. Even if this young man tried to mask his anxiety as best as he could but some of it was already slipping through his facial expressions and the unusually pale color of his face. That silence after Griffon’s comment was also a great sign of that.

After a very short pause broken by the loud sigh V made he finally replied with the following: „Even if I’m not, I’m not ready to be casted away for good by Urizen either.”  
V leaned against his cane and kept starring at the house he was about to enter. His face began to unfold even more of anxiety what could be seen through bitting his lips and breath speeding up. The anticipation was unnerving.

„I must face the truth I always avoided. I must face something what Urizen twisted and replaced with something convenient I believed to be true for so long.” V said under his breath, hoping the speech would help him to regain some confidence in himself.

The house in front of him was in a bad condition. An evidence of this fact could be already seen from the distance. Some parts of walls and a roof were broken and missing. The construction seemed close to collapsing. Backyard and a garden appeared to be lifeless with that dead, gray grass and flowers laying around the ground. Even the trees lacked the leaves on them.

From a certain point of view the whole view was peaceful – in a way how battlefields look after the war ends. Even if that place was surrounded by a dead silence, which was being occassionally broken by the gust of wind, V could still hear the scared, dying voices of the past. That was hard to tell for him if they were real or a creation inside his head.

He approached the front door very slowly. When he reached his hand to open the handle, it was shaking. His hand withdrew suddenly. His mind was flooded with thousands of anxious thoughts regarding what he was about to behold. V was very close to giving up but the idea of being casted into darkness and emptiness by Urizen again scared him even more. At the same time he did not want to know the truth. He did not want to go through this ever again. Yet he had a strong will to live. He did not want go back into nothingness, into that paradoxically scary place of nonexistence. If he wants to defeat Urizen he has to break free from his illusions. He has to stop giving him more totalitarian power. He has to stop giving him reasons for his reign. He has to confront what he had not had strength to face before. There was no different choice. This had to be done.

The door opened slowly while making this squeaky, unpleasant noise. It felt like it was opening in slow motion, which lasted at least an hour from V’s perspective. A movement made to take the first step into the house could have taken hours. The leg felt so heavy and weak. In the moment he entered the house with his both limbs he saw the scene he always wanted to forget and pretend it had never happened. He always wished it was just a bad dream he had never woken up from.

The conflagration ate the house with its powerful, shiny, hot arms, burning the paintings on the walls and fulling the place with a thick, dark, choking smoke to the point things could not be seen as clearly as normally. But V could see one scene very distinctly – with all details necessary, the details he wanted to erase from his memory since always and at that moment he was rewatching them again.

The female figure ran, while holding a hand of a white-haired boy, who followed her. She suddenly stopped in front of a wooden, painted white wardrobe and pushed a boy into it. That boy hiding in a wardrobe was Dante. 

The lucky one, the one who earned his dearest mother’s love – she made sure to tell him everything she wanted before she was gone forever. She told him to be brave, to be a big boy, to start a new life. That mother – Eva, had another son – Vergil. He did not earn her love. He was left alone to survive and that moment taught him to count on and trust only himself. 

Dante was always the priority – because he was the more emotional one, the more expressive one, the funnier one, the cuter one, the one who showed his love more openly and the younger one, which was why he needed even more attention and care than him. 

While Vergil was always treated like the second priority – because he was less expressive, because his subtle reactions felt less rewarding, felt as less real than cute, intense and straightforwad expressions of Dante, because he showed love differently – through the actions not through the words and because he was the older one - big boys do not need as much attention as the little boys. He had to set an example for Dante because he was a big brother.  
Was that really true or that was what little Vergil believed to be true?

After Eva closed the wardrobe with Dante in it, she ran and screamed „Vergil? Where are you, Vergil?” hoping to spot a small figure of a little boy running to hug her. But she did not see him. The last sight her eyes registered was a horrible creature coming to her with the impressive, supernatural speed. Such a simple human woman did not even notice when a demon sliced her neck and bleeded out to death. The last noise she made was a painful scream and afterwards nothing came through but silence. One could hope that at least she never felt that pain.

The scene seemed to gradually change from this image to the different one, which presented a house after the fire was extinguished. There was no boy in the wardrobe anymore. He had clearly left to start a completely new life. But another white-haired boy approached that place. The soft steps made by little feet could be heard and the high-pitched voice calling his mother’s name. His voice was changing by degrees from a quiet, confused voice to the one getting closer and closer to sobs. When he found his mother laying on the burnt floor he tried to wake her up. He kept telling her that the monsters were gone so she could get up. The boy tried to move her, shake her believing she was just asleep but with no success. While making these pathetic attempts he could feel she was cold and already stiff. The boy refused to accept that the mother in front of him, was truly dead and he could never tell her the last goodbye. This poor little boy was Vergil.

When all the scenes played around V, he was sitting there on a floor while hunched over. During the last scene happening, he was curled up, hiding his face in his knees. He stayed in such a position a bit of time after the scene ended. 

This place surrounded dead silence similar to the one remaining outside. The building inside was in ruins and slightly burnt. Each furniture, which was there during the attack stayed there unchanged to that moment. Nothing had changed since that attack – with exception of a body, which was buried long time ago. 

As V stayed in a curled up position the tears from his eyes could not stop leaking. Even if he remained completely silent, the emotions did not. He decided to reach his cane and attempted to stand up. He used it to push himself against the floor but he still struggled. That was not because he was physically weak at that moment. When he finally got up and looked around the place once again, he saw the flashbacks of the last scene he had just seen. He broke up into silent sobs, which he tried to hold back by covering his face with a hand. V took a few deep breaths to regain his composure and when he did it he finally left the building. 

V made no comments to Griffon even if that demonic bird was flying just next to him. He was silent even when his winged familiar decided to break it just before they were about to leave the cliff. Despite this fact V did not respond to anything the demonic bird tried to say, suggest or comment on and he just kept going to reach another goal. Even when they faced new enemies on the same path they had cleared while reaching the house before V did not say a word.

As they finally arrived to the place, which they started from at the beginning, Griffon could not deal with V’s silence anymore and began to say „Okay, okay, we don’t have to talk about that moment. But quit acting like a tough guy for a minute and listen to me!” demonic bird tried to tug V’s clothes with his claws „Are you sure this will make you stronger against Urizen? You are… you are a mental mess! Give it a break, V.”

After a while V finally responded to Griffon’s remarks „I know it didn’t look well. But it did give me what I wanted…”

If Griffon had a human face his would definitely express annoyance at V’s enigmatic response. And then he spotted something he had not noticed before. At least he believed that what he just spotted, was not like this as he remembered it to be earlier.

„I wonder… why did your hair turn white? I haven’t seen you summoning Nightmare. I can’t even sense him anymore.” Griffon’s voice expressed confusion.

„That’s what I mean.” V smirked mysteriously „Urizen wants us to be tied up together but separated so I stay without any demonic power. What happened was I absorbed Nightmare and all of his strength.” the young man reached the sword, which was conveniently laying on a road near them „Now I can help you a little.”

„I think I’m starting to grasp what’s in your mind but I still don’t see how you should have any chances against Urizen without us.” Griffon expressed his concern.

„When I finally reach Urizen, where he is, I will find Yamato. This is the only weapon, which can harm him.” V responded ceasing his familiar’s worry with the explanation he provided.

The plan of this young man seemed simple at first but it turned out to be a real challenge. The first memory wrenched him painfully – at least at the very beginning. If this young man wants to stop the dictatorship of a demon king, he has to break free from his control, which he gained over V when this young boy had consciously accepted his lies and rejected the truth. Then he would have the strength he needed to stop this havoc and lurking destruction of his own existence.

Where he stood at that moment, he could spot the town at the far distance. It was floating like an island but instead of being surrounded by the ocean or the sea, there was nothing but emptiness downhill. There were more broken pieces of the ground floating, which could work as a path conveniently. Some of them looked like parts taken from buildings and the other ones seemed to belong to a park long time ago.

V moved towards the town confidently as before but this time he was not as scared as earlier before facing the first nightmare. Instead he just felt very unpleasant about what he anticipated to see next.

Of course the demons tried to stop V from reaching that Island. It was obvious Urizen did not want him to find even more strength. As V’s creation he was supposed to stop and hide his nightmares – that was his primar duty but the more needed he was, his task deviated more and more to the point when his purpose had become to destroy V and replace his place. Especially when that disgusting, deformed creature, which was Urizen, started to form a will to live and did not want to be reduced to a servant anymore. Urizen could sense what V was doing, what he felt like and he did not like it. That was why the enemies became even more brutal and aggressive than before. Fortunately, V did not have to rely on his familiars only and he could slice a few of the weaker demons himself. Absorbing Nightmare gave V more resistance against damage from the demons’ attacks and actual physical strength he lacked for so long.

Urizen thought of himself as the absolute king of that place, which is the physical manifestation and translation of a complex incorporeal structure. He believed to take care of this world better than anyone else would ever do. That creature used to have almost absolute power all over that place – he could have shaped it with no limits until the splitting and reemerging happened. Since then Urizen noticed that he did not have so much control anymore and he found it very concerning. That was why he tried to do everything to get all of his power back and believed that V was still too weak against him. When the demon king noticed V’s determination to face the truth he made sure to show it as real as possible – hoping that would break V’s will to fight in the process.

The young man had to get through this path with a lot of effort: fight the big cohorts of demons attacking him at once and navigating himself on the smaller, floating islands lining up in direction of the town but when he finally arrived to his place of destination, V immediately recognized the place he was just seeing. 

At the very beginning he watched the town being attacked by the swarms of flying demons and ramming, enormous beasts. This vision included people, who attempted to escape the town helplessly and blindly, while hoping to luckily avoid being spotted by some of these scary, merciless devils. At this point there was a little stack of dead bodies laying around the streets and their blood was running down like a river. Knowing that the human blood is a source of demons’ strength some of the beasts stood there and consumed the corpses or the blood to gain even more power to spread even a bigger havoc. 

That was a real massacre, which no one could help about with exception of one person. There was a man wearing a turquoise, long coat and standing in a position telling he was prepared for an attack. Besides his very stylish coat the second most characteristic thing he had was katana he wielded. The attacks he leaded with this weapon were inhuman and despite his form resembling visually a human, the demonic powers he manifested showed the man fighting there, had to be a demon at least. He could slice up to ten demons at once with an incredible speed and insane precision. The dodges, which he made during that fight, looked as if the man could turn into a dark blue mist for a few seconds and pop out several meters farther from the place he disappeared in. The warrior made sure to warn people, who were running away, and tell them where was the safe place they should have sought, while slaying all the demons following them.

At a certain point there could be a dramatic shout heard, what attracted that man’s attention forthwith. That was a distinct cry for help different from the other human noises – the woman, who was in danger, was his loved one. A fear built up on his face – could be that because he was horribly scared of her being hurt but maybe there was one more reason for that. The woman wore a red dress, which was torn down in the proces of fighting off the demons surrounding her in a circle. She would definitely not win and survive against them without any assistance nor actual demonic arm to attack with. 

The man wielding katana suddenly transformed into something, what confirmed his demonic herritage – he still possessed a humanoid form but also had actual horns, claws and sharpy-looking wings, which he immediately spreaded to fly and arrive fast enough to save the said woman. He caught her while still on air and despite her terrified scream at him, which he expected from her, realizing she did not know he was not actually the same demon like the ones massacring the town, he took her where he thought she would be safe. He tried to calm her down by saying „It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?” to her, while his voice clearly sounded distorted due to the demonic form he was in. Apparently she found it familiar despite the fact it was coming from a mouth of that horrific, demonic, unrecognizable creature and only responded all shocked „Vergil?” to him.

As he laid her down on the flat roof, which seemed uninteresting for the demons, he returned to his actual human form and kept asking questions reassuring his loved one did not need even more help with her potential injuires. The man examined her condition himself to be certain the woman could be left alone for the time he was fighting. A confirmation of lack of serious injures and wounds, made him quickly leave to fight again.

Afterwards this scene faded - the whole setting of that town changed to the more peaceful one but the city was still in ruins. The corpses were gone but the dried out blood settled on the stone bricks making up the road. At that moment V was watching a moment he found immediately familiar and unpleasant. There was a couple standing outside of the building. They were arguing. V could hear very well what was the argument about. He bit his lips and only waited for this scene to be over as quickly as possible.

In this scene there was a woman wearing, victorian red dress. Her black hair was bunched up in a bun. She stood closer to the front door of the tenant house. V had seen her before. The man in front of her wore turquoise, long coat and he had a very characteristic, distinct hair color – silver white, very shiny and bright on the sunlight hitting it in that scenery. The same one as earlier. The lady expressed so much anger through her facial expressions only – her mouth was wide open as she spoke and eyebrows frowned, while the man tried not to lose his composure but sometimes even his anger slipped through and when he noticed that he pretended he needed to clear his throat whenever his voice started to tremble and get closer to a yell.

„I would have never guessed you’re a demon! Why would you- Why were you lying?!” the lady yelled at the man.

„Listen to me. I had my-„ the man tried to reach his hand to calm the woman down but she pushed him and cried „I know what demons are! I have seen them what they do to people. I’m not sure what I was even thinking! Somehow I knew something was off from the very beginning!”

„Demons are very diverse, like humans do. I have never thought of hurting you. Ever!” at first the silver-haired man kept his voice steady but it became loud and guttural at the very end. As quickly as he noticed that he cleared his throat to control himself and quiet his voice.

„No. I know exactly what they are like, especially after I saw them killing off my family in front of my very eyes! I knew I couldn’t be this lucky and I’d face their fate as well! And here you are!”

„Have I ever hurt you?!” the man lost his composure over what his lover tried to imply. His response was shouted loudly.

„No… Not yet. Do you even know why I really worship Sparda? Because he realized the disgusting truth about his own kind and brought justice to this world. He punished the demons like these ones, who brutally murdered my family and… made my life hell.” the lady avoided his eye contact but he noticed tears streaming down her red cheeks. That was a very painful view for him.

„Sparda killed only the ones who threatened and hurt the humanity. He didn’t do it alone. He had a legion of different demons helping him in the same case. Not all demons are the same. I am not against humans, I am with humans. Just like Sparda did.” the man reached his hand and touched the lady’s back to calm her down.

„I loved you, Vergil but I wish I never met you. Go away and never come back. Please.” the woman walked towards the front door of the building. Her voice was trembling and the lump on her throat made her almost unable to speak. The tears blurred her vision so much she could not even see the man’s expression.

The man could feel tension in his throat building up to the point he was unable to say „I loved you too” back. That did upset him even more she did not get to hear it after the woman entered the building and closed the door. A lover stood there for a while, biting his lips and probably wondering what to even do with a heart broken like that and then finally left. This is when that scene came to an end to V’s relief. He was tense through the whole argument and when it was over he sighed loudly and deeply. Griffon flying over V’s head decided to break that silence, which surrounded them when this drama ended.

„And we all know what happened next, right V?” the jazzy voice of the bird sounded.

„I’ve never even came back to her…” V’s voice expressed sadness, he did not even look at Griffon.

„You proved her right demons are heartless bastards that way… Even if you didn’t mean it.” demonic bird responded.

„I don’t know anymore… With Temen Ni Gru, my younger, angrier self wanted to probably prove she was right. But I don’t even remember what I was thinking. I killed so many innocent lives just to stroke my ego to forget I was rejected… again. And that was the moment when Urizen took the absolute control over this place. But there wouldn’t be Urizen without me.” V’s voice remained low and slow expressing his remorse.

„And when Nero was born… Do you think she took him to the orphanage because of you?” Griffon asked.

„Maybe… Or maybe demons got her after he was born.”

„Be honest V, do you still love her?” Griffon’s question was followed by a short pause before V finally responded to it. He needed time to construct the best answer for such an actual complex question – regarding something what is so hard to define.

„I… This is the only person I have ever had such passionate, intense feelings for. Even if they are now just a shadow of my former and currently distant feelings for her, I still think of her sometimes.” even if V’s voice was kept low a little of passion and happiness could be heard from it. In the end he even smiled to himself, while not focusing his sight on anything, just on that pleasant memory.

„Alright, romantic boy. You’re about to face the last nightmare… But where?” Griffon decided to break that emotional mood to speak about a bit more practical things. It took a while for V to snap out of his chain of sad and happy memories regarding his past love life.

„This is going to be simplier than before. You see, we are on a floating piece of a ground. We only have to jump from it down to hell.” and then V smirked „I’ll need a little of your help, while falling there.”

Griffon only nodded with his small head and followed V, who turned in direction of an edge of that flying island. The town V had seen from the distance turned out to be only a small fragment of it from what was it like really. That was why it did not take him that long to reach the edge of this floating piece of ground. Before he jumped he looked down into that deep, outstretched abyss. Its actual end could not be seen and instead all it shown was that merciless, scary darkness. The young man hesitated at first upon seeing this view. He realized he was about to see his worst horror of his life after the death of his closest one. V could feel his heart hammering as if it had jumped into his throat. But he took a deep breath and rose his arm to reach Griffon’s legs to hold them. Then he jumped off and began to fall into that scary, inscrutable abyss while using Griffon’s ability to fly to amortize his fall. At some point he reached a level, in which he was surrounded by quite dark mist – or the light was not reaching that level anymore. There was almost nothing he could see, only if he looked up he was able to see the weak light coming from the surface he jumped off and fell from. Below him there was only pure, thick, black darkness.

After a long time of falling V finally reached the very bottom of the abyss. The moment that happened was difficult to tell because that place had no source of light - only his feet touching the ground surprised him as he did not expect that. The only noticeable thing was Griffon because of his glowy, blue wings. V looked around in hopes that he would notice even the weakest source of light. With the time passing certain figures started to emerge from the deep darkness from the distance. One of them was majestic and enormous while the other one was tiny in comparison. He approached that vision closer and started to see even more details. V recognized that giant figure was actually Mundus himself and this tiny human, enchained with certain, demonic substance was… the same man wearing turqoise, long coat as in the previous vision. The warrior was defeated and covered in his own blood. His body was pierced with several blades. They went through his throat, chest and stomach limiting his movement that way. The only motion coming from him was through his facial expressions and mouth moving as he tried to speak.

„That’s laughable a creature with no demonic power dared to challenge me believing in its victory. Did your pride limited your mind to the point you underestimated my power and strength? Is that all you can do?” the enormous statue of a god-like looking human spoke with a powerful sounding voice. It echoed loudly in that dark space.

This mighty demon did not get any reponse back but he did not even waited for that and continued his bombastic speech „I will tell you the secret and a truth of your pathetic, sad defeat, human. It is the human heart, you have, make you lose any fight you go through. It is what keeps you down. That is your curse given by your mortal mother.”

„Absolutely ridiculous!” the man coughed blood. Such accusations seemingly provoked him.

„I do not want you to understand that. Now I will make you an actual great warrior, who won’t be disoriented with anything coming from what’s not my will and command. You will be the best of the best ones in my army, son of Sparda.”

Afterwards it seemed like the warrior ended up buried and consumed completely by this weird, dark, gummy demonic substance he had been partially covered in. He was gone but so was Mundus. The scenery gradually changed and showed the same man again but this time wearing a heavy but somehow majestic armour and painfully kneeling. His hands and legs were chained up. His head remained uncovered and his face could be seen. It was hard to tell what was really happening during that moment from a perspective of an observant – but V knew exactly what was that. That was his trail before he could serve as a soldier. A trail or maybe a torture. V could not really tell.

Mundus tested his subject's endurance to pain caused by several kinds of stimuli – from the basic, physical objects common on the surface to the darkest and worst types of demonic powers. What the warrior was actually experimented on was his durability to horrific mental and spiritual manipulations, which certain spieces of demons were capable of. Sometimes that kind of illusions could be very simple – like making an object to recall its worst traumas and insecurities but the most drastic ones could achieve that kind of mental pain in a target without bringing up those. They could even manipulate the strength of that mental torture and extend that to specific, unpleasant body sensations. And that was something what interested Mundus the most – especially when none of his soldiers was capable to withstand this type of attacks. He believed that a hybrid would be finally resistant to it with a little help and training.

V observed the moment when the man was began to be mercilessly tested on. The scary, painful howl surrounded that dark place. The noise made by strongly pulled chains – because the man wanted desperately to free himself but he could not – made V’s skin crawl. The fierce pain could be seen on the defeated warrior’s face – through the way his face exhibited facial expressions rarely seen on anyone. The pain was inducted for long, horrible thirty minutes and this whole time the majestic figure of Mundus stood there with crossed arms. There was no expression on his face as expected for a stone statue form he possessed and it seemed like he only sighed with disappointment upon seeing the results. The tortured man had the moments of breaks when he stopped moaning and breathed heavily but not for longer than a minute. It was not the first time he went through this „test” and he had already learnt some techniques to survive these experiments as best as he could. That was why he tried to make these strategic breaks. He used moments when the pain was so staggering and stunning to the point when his body was confused itself how to react to it and then he took advantage of that to catch a break.

Afterwards that horrible half of an hour of the trail finally ended at least for a while. As soon as the man stopped to have pain inducted, his body dropped as if the man lost consciousness. The chains around his hands were too short to let him fall off completely on the ground so he remained in that kneeling position, slightly crounched and a hair falling on his face. At that point that man realized his helpless situation – that was one of the twenty experiments he had undergone already and that one finally broke him down.  
The realization that was his fate for the rest of his life horrified him and wished that could end in any ways. But he knew Mundus wanted him alive as his greatest soldier. 

A sudden sound of a loud sob filled that place – it was coming from that imprisoned man. He could not stand all of that anymore and the only thing giving him relief was just that. He tried to stop that by biting his lips and squeezing his eyes but it felt like it was out of his control. The more he tried to hold it back the more he cried.

„What a pathetic weeping.” Mundus voice resounded and approached closer to his prisoner. „That’s a pitiful cry of something without strength. But I will make sure it won’t prevent us from making you the most efficient soldier in my legion. Tears – that’s what only humans have when they realize their pitiable frailty and mortality. That was what make us superior to your primitive, fragile kind – we do not weep – we are an unstoppable force.”

Mundus’ voice echoed for a while and then the whole scenery faded for good. V’s knees felt so weak at that moment to the point he had to sit down to avoid falling. His breathing was quick and heavy and his eyes were wide open. He always saw that scene in his dreams – sometimes exactly how it really was, sometimes distorted and twisted. V could not forget that moment because of how helpless he was and and how fragile he felt when tortured. He always feared this coming back when he was finally set free. Anything reminding him of this would drive him insane. 

But… all of his nightmares were gone one day – soothened and not so scary anymore. Someone, who was a friend and a brother for him made sure to get rid of them in a very honorable fight against their physical manifestations. Deep down he was endlessly grateful for this even if it was hard for him to crack his stoic shell and admit that directly. There were moments he wished he could open up and say that aloud but he lacked strength to do so.

The scenery surrounding V changed and shifted to something resembling a throne room. Behind his back there was a large and outstanding throne, in which an enormous demon was sitting on and watching this small man in comparison to his size. V’s little, bird friend was gone but instead the man hold a certain sword in his hand – that was Yamato. He stood up and turned around in direction of the demon sitting. As he was getting closer to the „king” the demon already knew why V came there and appropiately spoke „Do you dare to fight a real demon? A human against a powerful devil?”.

V smirked at the demon’s words „Your rulling days are over. I will have to force you to cooperate, Urizen.”

The enormous demon laughed very loudly „You have no strength, which could defeat me. Even with Yamato in your hands you’re still just a mortal – a weak human.”

V found Urizen’s speech amusing and he expressed that through that little smirk he made and then this young man proceeded to speak.  
„There is one thing humans have and demons don’t. It’s a will. You don’t have it. You are just a primitive force. Nothing more, nothing less.”

„What a will can do against this strength?” Urizen pretended to be curious about this topic but he was only interested in hearing what pathetic explanation V would give, according to him and then scoff that.

„A will could withstand a body’s physical weakness and keep me going. A will killed you the last time despite of the man who was a source of that was dying and you possessed the greatest power you would ever get. A will managed to face the scariest of nightmares and a will is challenging you right now.” V kept smiling as he was saying that. He could see Urizen’s slight insecurity showing especially when he decided to stand up slowly from his throne.

„You can try to prove what your will can do against this power. But you will only help me with cleaning up your own mess.” Urizen took slow steps towards V and he was preparing himself for a fight.

V removed Yamato from the sheath and adapted a posture indicating he was done speaking and began to focus on a battle instead. The enormous demon, which stood in front of the young man, did not possess any weapons but that did not pose an issue for him. Urizen relied on demonic magic more and made sure to use it as best as he could. V had absorbed the powers of his familiars what let him use the strength and endurance of Nightmare, the speed of Shadow and limited distance based attacks of Grifffon.

The final battle began with impressive attacks leaded by both V and Urizen. The young man used incredible, almost inhuman speed to approach the terrifying demon 5 times taller than him and sliced him with excellent precision. While the demon king tried to keep the distance and used his magic based shots instead, trying to summon lighting-like energy to hurt V and mess around the strikes the man tried to launch.

This fight lasted a long time with pretty, gentle and elegant pirouettes of V as he was striking with firm blows of Yamato and rough, strong and clumsy attacks of Urizen with varied distant demonic tricks and powers. It ended with a victory of this young, wobbly man, whose last blow was a stab into Urizen’s chest, just like his brother had done it. The expression the man made was full of anger and fierceness, so were his feelings. The giant he stabbed through the chest, fell down, waiting for V to do the last thing. But Urizen’s speech interrupted V from jumping on his body to launch the deadly attack.

„Do you really think I am the one to blame?” the deep voice of exhausted, weakened voice of a powerful demon sounded. V’s posture quickly shifted from the one prepared for the last strike to the more relaxed one. It took him a while to snap out of his fighting mode and the sudden speech astounded him. He approached the defeated demon king closer, while still wielding Yamato in his hand.

„No matter how many times you will blame me for your crimes and mistakes, it will never change the truth.” through Urizen’s voice difficulty with speaking could be heard „That sibling rivarly. That is not me. Don’t you remember how you begged me to help you to win against him? I did what you asked for. Thousands of lives sacrificed for power? You begged me to make you stop feeling any sympathy for the living creatures you would feel so sorry for. You wanted me to destroy this ‘barrier’ stopping you from reaching your goals. That’s a wish I granted you. ”

„Yes. I was denying that for so much long. And today is when I will face the truth as it truly is. I am to blame. I realize that.” V’s responded to that remorsefully.

„You have not seen the whole truth yet. Do you know what it is?” Urizen calmly asked.

V was certain he already knew everything but this reveal surprised him and rose his both curiosity and concern regarding another truth he did not realized. So many years hiding from the truth leaves an effect in a form of memory loss and replacing that with a false perception.

„What it is, Urizen?” V tried to keep his expression, a posture and his voice relaxed and calm in front of the enormous, weakened demon but deep down the anxiety started to eat him. That was unecessary since Urizen could sense anything he felt but in this dim state V hoped he could not do that anymore.

„Put as much distance between you and the truth as you want, it changes nothing.” Urizen was getting weaker and weaker as he was dying, what affected his speech to sound breathy, exhausted and quiet but he continued what he wanted to deliver „Pretend from now to be everything you are not: a son, a brother, a father. But there is one unavoidable truth you will never escape: you cannot change. If your dearest mother was alive, you proved with your own actions you never deserved the love and care she gave you to rise someone, who went against everything she taught you. Your brother will never see you as a brother, but as a man, who abandons and destroys everything for power including your brotherhood, family bonds. Your son, Nero, will never see you as a father figure but as a man who mercilessly ripped off his arm even if done without your awareness of your family connection. You will always be a monster, Vergil.” 

The man who stood before the dying body of Urizen turned out to be Vergil himself. A human/demon hybrid having a straight, prideful posture indicated by his chest and chin raised at the very beginning of demon king’s last speech. The gentleman wearing the black coat, whose length ended slightly below his knees. The words of truth delivered by Urizen made Vergil to clench the Yamato, which he held, even stronger than before. His figure exposed his unconfidency and remorse through adopting a bit more hunched posture. His icy eyes suddenly moved its focus from the defeated devil to the ground. That overall expression and sudden change of his posture made Urizen burst into a loud laugh.

„Do you still believe you do not need me? It’s clear you do.”

Vergil quickly regained his composure and his face went back to its serious, stoic expression. He calmly responded: „I’ve never said I was going to kill you. I will only make you submit and do what I actually want you to do. You never needed me but I needed you. I have to put an end to this sick inbalance of power.”

To Urizen’s surprise he saw Vergil suddenly turning around and leaving. What the demon expected was the last strike from Yamato. But that did not happen. He asked confused: „Where are you going?!”

„I’m done with you. You’re already dead… I wouldn’t regain my true self without it. Thank you for your service but I think I’m ready to work as myself here.” the speech Vergil made was not heard by the demon king anymore as he had already desintegrated and disappeared before the man finished his prideful-sounding words. The condition, in which Urizen left the world he once ruled in, remained the same like before his death. Once impressive buildings stayed in ruins like dead corpses. Beautiful, majestic cities broken and twisted to the point when they were almost impossible to recognize. The sun and weather so gray and dark, while it used to be so warm and colorful. Vergil realized that there was a lot of work ahead of him to bring that world back to its past prime. 

The man put his katana back to its sheath carefully and slowly. He gazed around the spacious room he was in and then he turned his sight on the giant door before him on the distance. The steps made echoed through the tall walls of such a rangy place. Then finally reached the door with foreign text engraved on it. 

But isn’t it time to wake up finally?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the Urizen's speeches have a reference to the other video game. You can try to guess which one if you want.


	2. A New Recruit But The Same Old Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out Vergil woke up from just a dream and faces an ordinary demon hunting mission with Nero. While his son observes his father's odd behavior carefully and struggles with accepting him after so many years of believed abandonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely, less angsty than the first chapter but there is still some angst left.

That was truly a bizarre dream, Vergil thought while slowly opening his eyes. Dreams can be strange indeed and are so fleeting inside one’s mind. They are one of the most mysterious parts of human life, which naturally provoke many questions regarding their mechanism, function, purpose and sense for people. What do they really show? Are they a manifestation of what emotionally occupy our minds subconsciously? Can be dreams a vision, which is like a puzzle, which gives a real answer if correctly solved? Perhaps it reflects the subconscious life, which is normally hidden from our conscious “eyes”.

Whichever explanation was true that was none of Vergil’s concerns. The past taught him that dreams are none of these but a potential torture for his, sadly for him, fragile human soul. The mere fact he borderline accepted and denied at the same time. The numerous unpleasant experiences forced him to learn a habit of ignoring visions he saw at night, while deeply asleep. That was why as soon as he woke up the memory of that dream was casted aside, rejected and forgotten – in a fully automated process. From Vergil’s perspective dreams were simply illusions of real memories and feelings. Aside from that his strongest association with dreams was torment and pain induction. The worst of horrors had not left him for at least a day and haunted him stubbornly. No matter what he had done he could not escape his own mind. Just until when he had desperately attempted to free himself from this mental cage – what ironically resulted in getting even closer to his own demons and losing all of his power left for the gain of his own disgusting creation. That was not his plan all along – not like this. At least he should feel lucky that had been something what could be reversible. The cost of his own new life was very high – even he felt that was too much. Sudden guilt tripped thoughts frequent his mind from time to time even if he tried to constantly escape them, dodge them just like he did in a fight. Admitting the truth, acknowledging his own crimes as his fault was hard. In some unexplainable ways for him without the demonic soul holding him back that was so much easier to say that out loud how much he regretted it, how much he wanted Dante to help him fixing that. The fight between his own pride and regret was intense even if the man in question masked it in his uncaring, stoic and snarky demeanour. Perhaps it will take him very long time to manage to openly confess like he did as a once pure human.

Back to Vergil himself, what was worth his attention at that moment was the van, in which he happened to sleep in. The sudden impulse of somnolence had made his eyes heavy and mind too exhausted to pay attention to anything resulting with this rather unexpected nap in the van. But as he was finally awake Vergil could tell, the vehicle he was in, was in a fast motion as if the rest of passengers were in a rush. There was two of them aside of Vergil – Nico – the driver of a van – and Nero – a devil hunter and his son… at that moment only in a biological sense. Speaking of which, that young man spotted through the driver’s mirror that his father was already awake. Nero was sitting on the front seat along with his best friend Nico, whose driving skills could be described as both impressive and concerning.

„Your old man has awoken. What ‘bout tellin’ him hi, Nero?” Nico jokingly commented expecting to annoy her friend by that. She had a lot of liking for Nero in a slibling sense despite the lack of actual family bond connecting them. They could be as well adoptive brother and sister. That was why she enjoyed provoking Nero – he was quite a hothead with amusing reactions. And just as she expected, Nero could not help responding to that while sounding bothered.

„Could you please stop? I’ve already told you that. Leave that to me.” Nero exclaimed while uncovering an obvious annoyance through his voice slightly raising.

Upon observing this immature behavior of these young adults, Vergil cleared his throat to begin the topic he found the most important at that moment. Surely more worthy spending this priceless time on that than on arguing about greetings.

„I see we have a work to do unrelated to our lesson of manners. What’s the mission ahead of us?”

„Same as always.” Nero responded, while expressing boredom with this fact.

„Empusas in suburbs?” Vergil’s words got a confirmation as Nero’s nod and after that his father continued with „That’s strange…”.

„It’s been always like this. I don’t remember Fortuna to be any different since I was born.” Nero spoke, while he kept his gaze focused on the road instead of his own father. Unlike his son, Vergil tried to keep the eye contact.

That sudden brake of the car would throw everyone to the front of the van if not everyone had their seat belt… Well, with an expection of Vergil. This uwarned maneuver costed him a good headache after his body was unwillingly threw at the front of the car. That resulted in Vergil hitting his head over the window. At least that did not break the glass… and nor this man’s skull – although that was close to impossible. As quickly as the car stood still, Vergil only ended up kneeling, while holding his head, and stopping himself from moaning from the pain. Fortunately it faded as quickly as it came. Upon seeing this, Nero quickly reacted with anger at the driver. A few glances at the view from the window showed there was no demons nearby. Therefore why that kind of maneuver seemed absolutely unnecessary.

„Fuck, man, you okay? Nico! What the hell are you doing?” Nero exclaimed „There is even no demons here!”

„See, mad boy. The last time you said repairing this van costed you too much money. So that’s why I decided to park here, where no asshole will even touch it. Use your legs, it won’t hurt.” Nico confidently responded.

Nero wanted to argue more but he was quickly interrupted by Vergil already leaving the car. While doing that he said surprisingly calmly „We have to go, Nero.” He was right, Nero thought to himself as he left and caught up to Vergil’s pace.

The street they stopped at did not look suspicious from the first glance unless no one would feel bothered how deserted it felt. Not a single soul around but Nero and Vergil slowly walking towards another, smaller alley.

„I know that place.” Nero suddenly commented, while both of them were slowly walking towards the alley infected by the demon’s plague „This is where I find most of the kids, without their parents.”

„Was not that place evacuated?” Vergil asked curious.

„Should be. Whenever we get the orders, police do the job to evacuate everyone earlier… But I don’t hope everyone survived anyways…” Nero said, while through his voice a little of concern regarding what he had just said could be heard.

The sudden and quick movement was noticed by both of the devil hunters what caused them to be more vary from that moment. On the poorest streets of the town, a swarm of Empusas came to prey on its inhibitants and homeless people. There were dozens of them but that did not pose a problem for professional devil hunters, who possessed the right skills and weapons to kill them with an ease. Even the newest recruit had the experience of eliminating such monsters from the moment he was a very young boy.

„I’ll take the fastest ones.” Vergil declared upon examining the situation. His words were replied back with Nero’s nod.

Both men put their plans and tactics into action. The devil hunter wearing a black coat slayed the annoying and quick demons, while on air, with incredible speed. His son relied more on his brute force, while smashing and cutting off more buff and tough types of these hellish creatures. Even though they used almost opposite tactics they were very similarly effective in eradicating the scary, deadly intruders. Their spilled blood made puddles all over the street made of stone bricks. After the last one was already down Nero turned around in direction of the van, while Vergil still stopped to see that place better. His son found it a little strange for him and even commented on that „Come on, Vergil. It’s nothing new here.”

What drew Vergil’s attention the most were not the dead bodies of Empusas or the blood spilled by them. He noticed, besides them, human corpses as well. Some of them were fully consumed therefore why they had bones fully exposed. The different ones were either unfinished or even untouched. Something about this vision made him wonder. Even if that was not the first time he saw such a massacre. The last time he remembered the havoc caused indirectly by Urizen.

After his long, silent glance at that view he snapped out of it and left to caught up Nero’s pace. Vergil’s behavior was not left unnoticed even if it lasted a few longer seconds. The interpretation of it could be various without one, concrete conclusion but knowing his father’s past Nero could not help thinking Vergil took an odd pleasure from it. A man responsible for the death of thousands innocents should be at least used to such an horrible view. Had not he watched helpless people dying in horror and then gloat over their rotting corpses?

As much as Nero felt tempted to bring up the topic he refrained himself from that. Expected lack of empathy of his father on this topic would wrench his heart. Thinking about it itself was already upsetting Nero. He was also not in the mood for any toxic topics either and moved on to go back to his infuriating friend in the van.

A great surprise waited for both of them. It turned out that Dante paid them a visit and when they got on the van, the man was sitting on a couch relaxed, chatting with Nico.

„Where you’ve been? You were…” Nero spoke but Dante interrupted him mid-sentence „Yeah I know, so lemme explain. That was money related. I hope that’s enough. I’m not gonna embarass myself in front of your old man.”

„You are deep in your debt. That’s not a secret, Dante.” Vergil said that with his typically calm voice but this time he uncovered a bit of amusement through his soft chuckle.

„I told you!” Dante pointed his finger at Nero.

„Okay, devil guys, where are we headin’, before you start throwin’ insults at each other?” Nico decided to interrupt that friendly conversation.

„We’re done today.” Nero responded. His answer meant they were getting back to his house and leaving Dante at his own office.

„I guess you wanna go home first, Dante?” Nico glanced at the devil hunter she mentioned. He only smiled and nodded in response.

The man grabbed his favorite magazine and began to read it to kill some time. Nero started listening to the music from the radio, while Vergil reached his hand to grab the book with his name’s initial on its cover. Sometimes while reading he realizes how much he missed doing that since his childhood. What on earth stopped him from doing that? Oh, right, that was his own obsession, which in the end brought nothing but pain and despair.

That was a quiet trip but that should not be surprising. It was a long, tiring day.

The sun had already set when they arrived at Devil May Cry’s shop. When Dante stood up from the couch he came to Nero and whispered into his ear he wanted only him to go to his office. The young devil hunter already made assumptions regarding what his uncle wanted to tell him without Vergil knowing. Nero followed him without saying a word. When the big, two-winged door of the shop closed behind his back and Dante sat on his own, shop’s couch he started speaking.

„And what is your old man like? Anything different about him?”

„I don’t know. We really avoid talking personally.” Nero responded, while avoiding Dante’s gaze.

„Huh… And I thought making him work with you would help.” Dante stood up and sighed, while looking through the window, in which he could see the van.

„But you didn’t make me hire him for this. As you said, you just wanted to make sure he’d be in check. That he’d not cause any mess.” Nero responded slightly infuriated.

„Kind of.” Dante made a pause „But I mostly hoped for you to get closer. For him to be a better person… a better father. And… It doesn’t seem to work. At least he is a better devil hunter than I expected…”

“Great at slaying all the demons, yeah. He truly is a master of cutting limbs. ” Nero spoke sneeringly.

“Regarding that, now I really believe he didn’t really mean it, did he?” Dante responded.

“If he didn’t, what does it change?”

“I don’t know… Maybe you can just… forgive him that? Only that… not… um… more of his shit choices.” the topic turned into a quite awkward direction what could be felt through Dante’s own voice. Even if his relationship with his own brother could be described as complicated at least, Dante could not deny he still had the strong brotherly love for Vergil. At the same time he loved his nephew perhaps as if he was his adoptive son. That caused him to root for a reconciliation between Nero and Vergil. This messed up family needed some peace for once, Dante believed. The days when his own blood relatives live calmly in peace with each other ever again, were truly one of his biggest dreams.

„Forgive? He never even apologized for the arm in the first place!” Nero exclaimed while pointing out at the arm, which was once ripped off. His rage fueled scream echoed through the office’s walls and afterwards a silence remained until the young man decided to continue the topic in a sadder tune „I don’t wanna say I regret I let him live… because I’d lose you, Dante. But it was less painful to live without a father than with such an asshole… He doesn’t care about anything. He enjoys other’s pain, I can tell!”

Dante could feel his heart painfully break into pieces seeing his nephew this way. All words he spoke hurt Nero so much that they brought involuntary tears into his nephew’s eyes. Whatever emotion he felt at a moment, unlike his own father, he was very open about expressing them. If hate occupied his mind, Nero did not hesitate to show it. If sorrow ripped his heart apart, the tears were always his answer to that. If something caused him joy, he always expressed that back. But there was that one thing they both had in common. Pride. In the moments he felt upset he liked to have his need for privacy respected. He wanted to be a big boy. This knowledge stopped Dante from acting out accordingly to his instinct telling him to provide a warm hug to the ones in need. Instead the situation forced him to give that through the words of support and comfort only.

„I know he is a hard person but I can see that weak tint of humanity in him. When we were both in hell, surprisingly, sometimes through his stoic pose his softer side slipped. I mean… Call me nuts, there were moments I could feel his regret even. ” Dante checked Nero to see if his words brought him any comfort „I think what works the best is to confront him. Tell him what you think. Just when you feel ready to do so. He is not really the same as he was.”

„I really hope you’re right, Dante.” Nero’s response unfolded lack of faith in Dante’s words but still he wanted to believe there was still a chance for someone, who was biologically his father „Thank you. I have to go. Good night.” Afterwards Nero left the building in silence and got back to the van. His friend spotted something upset Nero, judging by his face alone, and that was why she decided to act upon that fact.

„What’s up? Ready to go home?” Nico sounded happy and cocky as always. The lack of answer from Nero confirmed her suspicion. Her almost adoptive brother was in need of help. The help in its own unique kind, which could be provided by only her.

„Did ya remember to clean up the room for you old man?” she started the topic intending to embarass Nero. Not because she wanted to put him down even more. That was the only way she could distract his attention from the depressing thoughts occupying him unnecessary. And obviously that worked.

„Nico?! Did you have to mention that?!” and as expected Nero quickly snapped out of his gloomy mood „I… I didn’t! But I’ll do it quickly! You didn’t have to say that.” It was slightly dark in the van but someone as discerning as Nico would notice that despite the shadows, in which her friend’s face was hidden, his cheeks were burning red out of embarassment.

„No need for turning so red. You can almost tell the cars to stop if you stood on a road.” She turned on the van’s engine and started to slowly maneuver to get on the road safely.

„Can you shut up for once?” Nero spoke, while anger slipped through his voice tone.

During that argument Vergil was busy reading his most cherished book of his childhood but upon hearing Nero’s voice getting angrier and angrier he felt like he needed to calm the situation down. Not to mention the loud voices disturbing him, while he wanted to focus on the uneasy artistic language coming from the poems his mind was occupied by at that moment.

„I may as well prepare the room myself.” the calm, of advised diction and wording, stoic voice of Vergil sounded, whose vocal was incredible in comparison to the loud, careless, colloquial voices speaking before him. While he spoke he tilted his head from the book and moved his gaze at the two young adults arguing. Their faces disclosed a slight surprise as if they forgot there was one more passenger with them this whole time.

„No.” Nero denied the offer firmly „I have to do that myself…” he intended his explanation not to be too revealing. There were notes left in that room he did not want his father to see. On his early teens there were many things he wanted to confess his biological father. Most of the time his urge to do so happened when he was at his lowest. His anger inspired tempts for venting left unpleasant letters, adressed to that person, who Nero believed to abandon him.

„That was your room once?” Vergil asked, while showing no offense towards the unapproval of his help offer.

Nero was uncertain if he should respond honestly or lie. But he decided to be actually sincere in that regard.

„Yes… You know. My teen self left the things, which should have never existed.” He tried to make it seem as these things, which he mentioned, were silly therefore why he faked his chuckle. Apparently it was convincing or Vergil’s reaction was also as well masked as his.

„I understand.” Vergil snickered „My young self was quite foolish once as well.” Afterwards his gaze moved to the book he was holding this whole time, what signalized he was done talking.

That was rare to hear anything nor any comment regarding Vergil’s past. His comment finished with a soft giggle and a smile caught Nero off guard. He knew that asking his father more questions would do the opposite of Nero’s intention but that speech itself made Nero wonder. Especially in regards to how he ended up having him with a certain woman, who was his mother. Young devil hunter was uncertain how to interpret his father’s amusement. Was that the same trick as he had pulled off before while talking about the things left in his room? Or was that an actual true reaction? If so, what did he find so amusing him? Damn it, Vergil, what are hiding?

After an hour the group of devil hunters arrived at Nero’s home in Fortuna. Their actual flat, where they lived in, was placed in the spacious tenant house, in which they also happened to run an orphanage. Normally that was a loud place, in which voices of amused or upset childred could be heard through the walls. But at that moment it was a deep night therefore all the children were asleep in their own rooms on the first floor. While the apartament, in which Nero and Kyrie currently lived, was placed on the second floor.

In the past, when Nero had lived adopted by Credo and the other older members of The Order, he had been growing up in his own room. The very same one, which was about to be handed over to his father this time. That was so ironic. If a room was a person it would be a witness of his biggest outbursts of anger directed at Vergil even if Nero had never realized who he was or if he was even alive. Whenever he had felt lonely he had blamed it on his nonexistent father through the messages he eternized on his notebooks and single paper sheets.

Nero invited his father to stay in a living room until he was done cleaning up the room. There was not that much to do. Kyrie and him made sure to keep it tidy. The issue was the notes he left. They were too awkward for him to leave them incautiously, while hoping Vergil would never get his hands on them. As much as Nero still stayed reserved towards his own father and had his own issues towards his behavior, he did not believe anymore he deserved to read that and he did not want him to possibly bring up this very uncomfortable topic.

While clearing all the drawers he spotted a certain paper sheet, which drew the most attention to him. He remembered – he was around sixteen years old when he had written that. His overall break down inspiring him to write this piece of work was caused by the moment his arm was hurt by the demons and not healing properly afterwards. He could not hesitate reading the message and the text described the following:

_Credo told me that once they’d found me covered in a black blanket. That’s why I keep that name… Like a loser. Never got a name because of what my parents saw in me. I just got it because of how I was abandoned. Left to die. Unloved. Left to survive on my own. I was always told I was just an accident in some stupid kids adult party. And this accident lives, feels and loves. Fights against the demons, protects Kyrie… If you were there for me you’d give me enough strength to kill them. Not to be hurt. I’d have the power I need. Without strength you cannot protect anything… but the power comes from love…. From love of the closest ones… but they aren’t here! Any single one!_

He could remember and feel his piercing, aching sadness coming through the text, while he had been writing that in the past. His vision blurred by his own tears building up in his eyes did almost not allow him to finish the last sentence of that message. Anytime he had decided to leave such texts he had been at his lowest. They were a way to let it all go for him in private. Despite the hurting lack of parents haunting him during his childhood and early teens his life was not as horrible as it could be concluded by his diary entries. Anytime anything triggered his anger, after a while it turned into a crippling sadness, in which his worst worries had come into play and had caused his breakdown in the end. This sheet of paper he was holding was an effect of it.

The tears, which had built up in his eyes, spilled all over his cheeks. He quickly wiped them in his sleeve and gave himself more time on cleaning up the room just to regain his composure and wait until his face went back to normal. His red face and eyes would be very telling for everyone that he cried. Not to mention sniffing, which could not be that easily blamed on allergy. Especially when… Nero simply did not have any allergies to begin with.

„It’s done. You can come there.” Nero said that while leaving the room after some time.

„It took you quite long. But I’m happy it’s ready.” Vergil responded.

„That’s gonna be your home now, for sure… Have you ever had a home before… besides hell?” Nero asked. That was not really a question Nero expected a serious answer for. He just wanted to start a conversation with his own father somehow. Any occassion for talking was a possibility to explore his mysterious old man’s history, thoughts and current motives.

Unexpectedly that was actually a question which caught Vergil off guard and it could be seen through his surprised sounding sigh.

„I think… The last time I had one was… During my childhood.” He said that with disbelief in his own words. Not because he was actually lying. He could not believe himself that was the actual sad truth he had just realized in front of his son. His face did not uncover any change in expression but his eyes disclosed a bit of sadness.

This very subtle emotion, which Nero detected in Vergil’s eyes, astounded him as well. Especially when none of his questions had caused his father to unfold any slight change in his face before.

„I see… I guess you were the type, who liked to travel a lot.” Nero hid his surprise and tried to pretend as that topic did not astounded him at all by sounding relaxed.

„We can name it that way.” Vergil attempted to respond in a uncaring way to distract the attention from his moment of weakness. He moved from a couch he had been sitting on that whole moment and walked towards the room, which Nero prepared for him.

„Thank you for yours and Ms. Kyrie’s hospitality. Good night, Nero.” he said that, while already holding a door’s handle just to close the room in a moment.

„Good night” said Nero back and turned around towards the room, in which Kyrie was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest this chapter would be even longer (twice as much) but decided to save the second half for a bit later.


	3. Awkward Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The task of eliminating demons continues with very subtle bonding happening between Vergil and Nero. The plot then divides into perspective of Vergil's visit at Dante's Devil May Cry shop and Nero being caught on his issues with his father by Kyrie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically a continuation of what happened in Chapter 2.

The next day played out similarly with devil hunters going on their mission. They were needed on a different region of the town but the purpose was still the same – eliminating demonic intruders and protecting humans from them… if there were any left. These were still suburbs where spawns of lesser demons were attacking humans. It was almost never regions closer to the center. The heart of the town was untouched by the disgusting creatures. This interesting fact started a conversation between the father and his son.

„Have you ever wondered why is it always suburbs?” Vergil broke the silence between them, while they were approaching the infected region.

„I have. I guess you know why?” Nero responded and expressed his curiosity towards that topic „Maybe it’s because the very center of a city is well armed against them?”

„There is an actual sadder truth for that.” Vergil started mysteriously „Poor people are naturally the easiest target. Demonic power feeds itself with the blood of the most tormented ones. Humans living in a luxury their whole life don’t have that much powerful blood.”

„Interesting… Why does that work that way? Any biological basis for it?” Nero found that information quite intriguing and obviously he wanted to hear something more in regards to that.

Before Vergil began to speak, he needed a bit time to recall what he knew about the reasons for human blood to be the power source. That moment could seen through his little break to sigh.

„One book mentioned it was because of the power aspect of a human emotion… But I don’t believe that myself. Perhaps, substances released in the blood of the most distressed humans must be a cause for the power boost in a demon.”

As Vergil finished his descriptive response, a quick movement of unknown creature could be seen. They approached a zone, in which demons were the most present. As soon as the demon hunters realized that they went quiet and prepared themselves for an inevitable attack. When they came to the main part of their mission they both fought in their own fight style as before. Nero utilized and relied more on his brute force, while Vergil focused on speed and precision through Yamato. Sometimes the group of demons was dispersed enough to the point when one demon hunter could appreciate and watch another one fightining. That was the moment when Nero realized the grace and style of Vergil’s smooth and fast cuts Yamato, while on the other hand the father noticed Dante’s inspiration present in his son’s fightining preference and a few weak spots in his attacks.

When none of the demon was left alive they were about to leave that place. But once again Vergil’s attention was focused on some of the unlucky humans laying around the street. It took him a while until he moved his gaze in a direction of the parked van. That was not hard for Nero to notice Vergil’s weird interest in these corpses. The young man did not really know why his father paid so much attention to it anytime they were leaving but his assumptions started to make him feel disgusted. Somebody, who was a reason of deaths of thousands what if not milions of people, should not care this much about the dead bodies unless he got a perverted pleasure from such a horrific view.

Just before they were about to leave Vergil could not help commenting on Nero’s fighting style to give him a sincere advise.

„You’re fighting well… But some changes would be needed.”

„What you mean? Red Queen does the job very well.” Nero responded, while looking at the mentioned sword he was holding in his left hand.

„You rely too much on the gravity force, which costs you losing control over what your weapon is doing. Each time a demon touched you was due to that.” While mentioning the part of getting touched, he pointed his finger at Nero’s already healed wounds on his wrist and a shoulder. He reassured his advice would not sound petty but caring through his little smile he was making.

Nero did not expect Vergil to even propose any kind of advices. Perhaps he just wanted to show off how skilled and educated he was in comparison, the young devil hunter thought. That unexpected behavior made Nero curious and made him decide to go for it. Finally there was a chance for both of them to be a little more personal instead of giving themselves awkward questions and responses.

„Okay.” Nero held the sword in front of Vergil in a way as if he wanted him to examine that himself „I always did that and it worked quite fine to be honest…”

„That’s a bad habit then.” Vergil responded.

„All right. Can you show me how to do it the best way then?”

„When you want to throw your weapon, just keep holding it a bit longer than you are used to. That way you’ll keep the control of your own movement and sword’s strokes. Could you give that to me to present that?” Vergil slowly reached his hand towards Nero, suggesting the young man to give his Red Queen to his hands. The son made that instantaneously and waited interested for what his father was about to perform.

Vergil put his words into action and kept repeating his mentioned movements with Red Queen sometimes slower and the other times in normal tempo to make sure Nero would understand what was the true meaning behind his friendly advice.

„Now, do you understand?” Vergil stopped to see if his „student” needed any more explanation.

„I see. Dante tried to suggest that to me a few times...” Nero said.

„If you grasp the concept now prove to me you can put it into action.” Vergil encouraged Nero to do what he mentioned through giving his Red Queen back to him.

„Alright, alright.” Nero’s voice sounded a little annoyed.

His son’s first attempts still exhibited deeply rooted habit even after he had seen the proper example to repeat earlier. He quickly realized that and tried to match his movement to what he had been shown. It took him a few tries to finally reach the ideal move Vergil expected him to execute. Despite the fact Nero did not feel confident while doing that, upon seeing the successful attempt Vergil decided to challenge him.

„You’re getting better at it. I think it’s the best moment for a little sparring to strengthen your new habit. Do you take it?”

Nero would never reject any challenges therefore why his response was more than obvious.

„Surely!” afterwards Nero performed typical for him gesture with the Red Queen – charging its engine. That was something what Vergil always found highly silly.

That was not a battle for the life and death. Instead Vergil barely tried to attack Nero with his most powerful attacks and made sure to simulate sloppy strokes of lesser demons. Whenever his son’s old habit slipped through he made sure to call him out on that and threaten him with a lauched controlled attack missing his body by an inch. When Vergil found the results pleasing him enough and realized they were slowly running out of time he stopped the sparring.

„We’re done for today. Keep this lesson in mind, Nero. It was important.” The father said that while his breathing still remained fast due to the just finished friendly fight.

„I will.” Similarly to his father he kept chugging as he was speaking.

They slowly directed their a little tired walk towards the van parked nearby. Nero found that interaction surprising him. Coversations were always hard to keep with his own father but when it came to sparring he seemed feeling more comfortable that way. As if Vergil could communicate better through fighting than through the actual words. That was also true for him. Perhaps that could be the first successful attempt towards development of their awkward family bond.

„I’ll have to leave you for a while today. I’m seeing Dante.” Vergil said that while getting on the van. He suggested through that he wanted Nico to drive him to his brother’s Devil May Cry’s shop.

„Sure. No problem.” Nero responded, while his uncaring tone could be heard. Perhaps he still felt quite tired „You’ll just miss Kyrie’s dinner.”

„I’ll apologize for that crime, surely.” That was Vergil’s attempt at joking and compliementing his daughter-in-law at the same time. It is hard to say if it was the successful one.

Nero could only break a small, awkward chuckle at that clumsly attempt.

Back in the Nero’s flat placed in a tenant house, which played a role of an orphanage at the same time, a conversation happened between him and his loved one during the earlier mentioned dinner. At the beginning he did not disclose what was truly eating him and touched the more pleasant topic of his sparring with his father. While he found himself very happy with that fact their father-son relationship could loosen up that way but at the same time Vergil’s weird obsession could not stop bothering him. When he run out of the relevant topics he moved to the less important, silly topics, which unintentionally exposed him. Upon seeing this Kyrie made sure to confront him.

„I know there is something you want to tell me, Nero. Please, don’t bottle this up.”

Nero was caught off guard but at the same time he was a bad liar especially in front of Kyrie. His gaze, which felt empty and focused on something entirely different was a clear sign for that woman. She was the only one, who could read people’s faces this smart. No matter how thick their wall was, she was able to pick up everything through their masked expression. Any little sign exposed them to her. Even with this information Nero still believed to fool her of perhaps distract her.

The fact he was caught on that made him sigh deeply and felt like he owed her an actual honest answer.

„It’s Vergil.” Nero began speaking. The person mentioned did not surprised Kyrie but that answer alone did not satisfy her, that was why she tried to make Nero speak more.

„What’s wrong about him?” She asked.

„He… I don’t know how to start. He stares at the bodies... Do you think he gets any perverted, sick pleasure from that?” Nero spoke while expressing his disgust through his eyebrows frowning slightly at the end of his speech.

„What does his face look like then?” Kyrie continued.

„Um… It’s constantly the same. You know, that his ‘resting Vergil face’ expression.” Nero responded, while anticipating what his loved one would diagnose through that.

„Does he comment on that view?”

„Nah, he never says anything. It’s weird. He killed thousands but he looks at them as if that was the first time he saw dead people.”

„Perhaps it makes him think of something? Feels guilty seeing them?”

„What? Come on, Kyrie. This is Vergil. The guy, who raised a tower, which killed thousands, for power. The guilt should have stopped him WAY before he did that.” Nero reacted to it with a surprise and slight amusement at the idea he found entirely ridiculous.

„We don’t know if he is still the same man.” Despite Nero’s amusement Kyrie responded to that while sounding very serious „I don’t see him often but from the brief few moments I can see a kind of gloomy sadness in his eyes.”

„I think he’s been always a type of a gloomy guy. Dante told me. V’s style kind of matched his way of being.” Nero crossed his arms and snorted.

„I just want you to give him a chance, Nero. Just like when you did that yourself before they almost killed each other.” Kyrie reached her hands to touch Nero’s arms and rubbed them. That way she ended up starring in his eyes deeply to ensure he would trust her words „When you find the best moment, just ask him or I’ll do it myself.”

Nero could not simply resist that. Kyrie was a person, who never let him down no matter how ridiculous the idea could sound. In the end it always turned out she was correct about her assumptions. This time he could not deny her advice as well and call her silly or naive for thinking the way she thought. Even if she did not ask him to promise him anything he could not reject her idea. Therefore why he sighed deeply and then grabbed her hand and responded „I’ll try. I’m not sure if he’ll say anything but I’ll try.”

Meanwhile several kilometer away from the Nero and Kyrie’s flat, in Devil May Cry’s shop, Dante invited Vergil for a talk. He did not tell his brother what their conversation would be about, he just told him to come. And here the great „aniki” was, standing in his characteristic, prideful posture in front of Dante, who was sitting on a chair and had laid down his legs on a desk in front of him. Before any of them spoke Vergil looked around the room remembering the moment, in which he had appeared there for the first time in an unintentional disguise. His gaze stopped at the few interesting features worth examining more. The posters of half-naked models put on a wall were found as sign of silliness and immaturity according to Vergil. The appreciation of a woman’s body can be expressed in a less straightforward way than that. More beauty could be found in pretty, not always that clear words, which solved like a puzzle could give a satisfying image of a true answer unlike porn magazines, which provided an already solved puzzle and that way offered a boring, lazy, low-effort and almost offensive image, he believed.

Dante took one CD box in his hand and decided to put it in his retro-stylised CD player. Vergil took a quick glance at the box, his younger brother held, and all he could read in that was the title, which seemed to say „The way of all flesh”. That was not really a very relevant information in comparison to what was actually coming out from the speakers. The heavy notes of a distorted guitar and agressive drumming could be heard. Apparently that was what Dante digged a lot. When his younger brother sat back in a chair and adopted the same position as before he finally began to speak.

„So, brother… How do you like it?”

„Your shop? The music? But both I enjoy.” Vergil replied calmly, while waiting for the actual part of the conversation Dante invited him for.

„While I’m not surprised you like how I’ve arranged that place… but the music? I’d expect you to go full old man and complain about the loud kids music. Something like: Damn it, Dante, turn it off!” Dante seemed to be amused.

„You don’t know me that well, Dante.” Vergil smiled mysteriously.

„Alright, I’m not gonna bore you with my jokes. I know you like when things are straighforward. So here’s the deal.” Dante took a break to sigh, which expressed his struggle with saying something what seemed embarassing for him to admit „So you know about my debt issues and stuff. I found out how I can finally fix that!”

„I’m listening.” While Vergil’s face started to disclose a bit of confusion due to why he was specifically invited for such a topic.

„That’s gonna be a little of a confession. I just hate taking money from some of my clients. Especially the ones, who lost everything because of the demons. Kind of why I deal with consequences of havin’ such a good heart. ” Dante continued.

„Okay… What does it have to do with me?” Vergil asked, while visibly confused.

„Take it as an insult or as a compliement. No matter how sad the someone’s situation is, you don’t give a shit. I simply want to hire you to take their money when they ask for my help.” Dante answered.

„Do you really believe that’s the only reason of why you’re drowning in debt?” Vergil spoke amused.

„I’m working towards my management issues too. But the clients are a lot of profit missing too…”

„Wait, wait, wait. But won’t you feel any guilt if I do it on your command?” the whole idea was found by Vergil highly silly therefore while, during that conversation his mouth was constantly smiling a little.

„That will be easier to suck it up than doing that face to face, Vergil.” Dante sighed, while feeling already tired with the amount of questions asked „Please, do you agree to do it or not?”

„As long as it doesn’t intervene with my missions it won’t pose a problem. I agree.” Vergil’s face expression reverted back to its default stoic look.

„Well, technically that’s the end of the part I invited you for… But wouldn’t you mind to talk more about something else?” Dante spoke, while he was stretching his arms. That was telling he began to feel relaxed after having such an awkard and unpleasant confession to admit.

„That depends on what we’ll talk about, Dante.” Vergil crossed his arms.

„What do you think about Nero, for example. Really. I’m curious.” The younger brother smiled.

There was a pause between an asked question and a response. His true feelings towards his own son were mixed to say at least. The disgust Nero tried to keep secret could be felt through his attitude towards him. The hard truth to admit for Vergil was that his own son was truly justified to see him that way. At the same time two conflicted thoughts were fighting each other in his mind: the feeling he is not worthy as a father for a justified reason and the feeling bothering him with questions why he should even care about that. He tried to keep his indifference towards Nero but these attempts were always failing him. Revealing the complicated nature of his feelings towards his son was something he refused to speak about to anyone. That was why Vergil needed more time to build a dodge-like response satisfying Dante enough to make him refrain from pushing him to say more.

„He is… and interesting boy… perhaps a man. And he seems very committed to what he does.”

Dante did not seem actually content with the response and replied back „Not that way. Simple: Do you like him or not?”

„It’s hard to say.” The serious and clearly annoyed sounding voice of Vergil echoed in Dante’s ears awfuly. Possibly due to the fact he expected a bit more charming response with sweet sounding voice of Vergil. Instead he sounded painfully cold while admitting to what he felt towards Nero. That was why only a silent and disappointed-sounding „Oh” slipped through Dante’s lips only. After a brief silence between them he managed to add more to loosen up the atmosphere left by such cold sounding words.

„Let’s move to something else. Do you like to tell some stories?” Dante tried to sound playful.

„Depends on what stories.” Vergil replied with a curiosity rising in his tone.

„About yourself.”

„What if I said I’m not interested.” While Vergil’s response could sound serious juding by its content alone but a little of playfulness slipped through his tone as well.

„What do I have to do to make you tell me everything you did after the last time we met before you ended up here, dumbass?” at that point Dante tried to preted how dramatically bad the rejection of his request was.

„Give me your best weapon you possess with exception of your favorite one perhaps. Then I think that will be the right cost to tell you that.” And here Vergil was truly serious with what he wanted in exchange.

That was a high cost for Dante knowing his financial issues but he was committed to know what was happening with his older brother for so many years when he had been living in a confidence that he was dead. Gone forever but at that moment he was sitting in front of him alive. Perhaps he believed that was not only what he himself needed but also his own stubborn brother, who kept bottling up everything with assumed poor effects on his mental health surely.

„Okay, after you tell me that you’ll choose it yourself. Now speak, please!” the struggle of a tough decision could be heard through Dante sighing but that quickly changed to an excited speech.

„Do you prefer the short version or the long version?” Vergil asked calmly while realizing that asking more question fuels his younger brothers impatience. That was clearly done purposely on his part.

„Don’t leave out any details. Go for the full length story, big brother.” The impatience could be heard through the way Dante began to speak.

Vergil sighed deeply in preparation to start the story describing his past 10 years of his life. And then the story finally started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is a rather uncool cliff-hanger but you don't have to worry that this is where the story could end if I decided to give up (I'm very motivated *no jokes intended* to finish it and that's why I update once a week). Vergil's story is probably one of the first things I described and finished along with Chapter 1, while I was sketching my idea for that fanfic around July.


	4. Post Nelo Angelo Story - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story, which Dante excitingly asked for, has begun. It describes Vergil's first moments after he broke free from Mundus' control and how he found himself in that odd, lonely world before he finally showed up in Nero's garage in known circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to post this part of my fic. That was a concept I worked on first along with Chapter 1. Way before I figured out the plot for the main timeline.

That was at late rainy evening, when his captivity under Mundus total control ended. The last strike launched by Dante these ten years ago damaged his armor, which was essential for the demon king, perhaps god, to keep his subject in check, a human stripped from all of his freedom and free will. That came with a cost – any signs of will were severely punished. Any attempts seen as a way of regaining control over his body and mind were properly rewarded. Even the sick sympathy for his master spawned from the broken man’s insanity – a desperation to regain control over anything in his poor life - was considered a threat of breaking free.

The Nelo Angelo armor started to crack slowly until it desintegrated entirely. The only thing left was a shiny, glowing bright blue sphere, which quickly shifted its shape into a human looking-form. This glowing matter formed more details of a still shifting, intergrating body and revealed his hair, a face, fingers etc. The figure’s glow and bright bluish light slowly faded. The man, who had been just reborn, quickly grabbed the nearest worn-out cloak to cover himself with anything.

At first Vergil could not even tell he had a sense of himself of the world around him. During the first minutes he was an empty shell with no feelings, no sensual impressions, thoughts, personality, memories – anything. The world and him were one. The first thing he actually started to physically feel was cold. A body wet from the rain began to shiver to warm itself up. He ended up on the streets of an alien town to him and he sat there crounched under nothing, what could shelter him from the heavy rainfall. The cloak, which he wore, was already completely wet and it did not serve its purpose anymore. Vergil’s mind was still too foggy and barely functional to even form a plan what to do, to keep himself warm and hide from the rain. But with the time passing he started to regain his basic abilities crucial to survive. His own survival instinct began to guide him.

He stood up clumsily and looked around the area. Vergil at his best mental condition would consider himself lucky that the street was empty. Nobody would see him in such a poor state. But his barely regenerated mind was too shocked to process this way. The unwilling service under Mundus reign made him lost the crucial ability of forming his own thoughts. Expectable since the only desired ability was to respond to orders and performing them. His only sense of himself remained as purely physical and sensual – he was cold. What mattered to him was to find something to warm him and hide from the rain.

He kept walking along the street until he noticed an antique store with old-fashioned but classy clothes displayed on its shopwindow. Vergil intuitively knew that was in his taste even if his sense of himself was still slowly forming to the point he still did not even know who he was and what his name was. He broke into the store through the window. He took the dark, long cloat, its pants and its dark blue vest and dressed it up. The goal had been reached – he hid and was warm.

Vergil took a glance at the mirror, which was placed almost just before him. At first he believed that what he saw was a completely different person – an intruder. He felt threatened he was not completely alone in this unfamiliar place, alien world. The man took very slow, careful steps towards the mirror, while getting ready to defend himself from a possible attack but he quickly noticed that the figure in the mirror mimicks his movement. Vergil concluded that he saw a reflection of himself. He stood closely in front of a mirror and looked at his face and eyes. The man saw a normal, human face with cold, blue eyes and a completely white, fell down hair. That was when the realization of who he really was hit him. Vergil started to remember every single aspect of his life, starting from his childhood ending at the moment he was Nelo Angelo. It was an unstoppable, energy-draining chain of memories and flashbacks.

This sudden train of thoughts made him feel very weak. He tried to stop breathing so heavily and quickly. Vergil sat down crounched, while leaning his back on a wall, and covered his face with his palms. It took him a while to calm his breathing and his strong heartbeat. After that he felt severe exhaustion.

A good rest was surely desired for that. A sleep? That was something he had not been having for at least a decade. Vergil expected to have at least a decent rest in his dreams but instead he was haunted by his worst, horrible nightmares. Vergil could not stop seeing in his dream how he was defeated and mocked by Mundus. Then imprisoned and humiliated. Experimented on as if he was nothing but an object. And in the end stripped from all of his freedom. All of that looping in repetition until his mind went insane. He woke up sweating, with his heart beating fast and breathing heavily. His face covered in cold sweat and his hands trembling uncontrollably. Legs feeling so weak that he was certain they would not support his weight. What is this? What is this feeling? Terrifying.

Escape that, his own voice spoke in his mind. He did, he tried to snap out of it by making an insight about the town he ended up in. He covered himself with a cloak to avoid possible identification and left the store through the window, which he had broken into before. That was the right decision since he recognized this place and just saw the neon logo of „Devil May Cry” in the distance, which caught his attention the most.

He had some assumptions regarding what that building was but he came there closer to make sure. Vergil knew that would be risky to enter this place covered with a cloak without causing suspicion. The man only hoped to see something through the opened windows.

As he arrived there Vergil took a quick glance at the window and to his astonishment he saw his younger brother – Dante, sitting while resting his legs on the desk and crossing his arms. Vergil caught the moment when Dante was chatting with another man. Luckily enough the window was open and Vergil could hear almost everything of their conversation.

„That’s another job for you, Dante. Not very different from the last one but paid very well.” Morrison exclaimed.

„Well, I wouldn’t say I’m bored as you suggest, Mr. Morrison. But after doing this for the past 15 years you wish you could do something way different than that.” Dante responded while yawning mid-ways.

„That’s understandable. But it’s undeniable how much we are grateful for your service even if it’s paid. You made this city a better place, Dante.”

„Sure, sure…” Dante tried to sound cocky but there was a slight tone of embarassment in his voice’s tone as well „Well, thank you, Mr. Morrison. I’m getting ready for this gig. It was nice to see you.”

„My pleasure.” after that Morrison turned around to the front, two-winged door and left.

Dante collected some of his weapons, which were displayed on a wall. One of them was recognized as Rebellion and Sparda by Vergil. Then he saw Dante run towards the front door. Vergil could not see that after the door shut behind his younger brother but he heard some female voices outside. They sounded excited and happy judging by the laughter he could hear. One of the voices he found vaguely familiar. Apparently Dante had a company of two women helping him, Vergil concluded.

This image made Vergil feel very bitter and he quickly left the place to ponder somewhere else. He already could not stand being near that building. There were several reasons why. For the past 10 years Vergil had his time wasted and stolen from him while Dante was always the lucky one. Whatever Dante desired a fate was always willing to listen to his wishes and grant them. While he had an impression anything he tried to achieve was always destroyed. He was never anyone’s favorite son, not even fate’s. It was apparent fatum picked him as his favorite human to poke fun at. At least that was what the man in a cloak assumed was true regarding his brother’s life.

The way he walked, while thinking about this, had such an aggressive manner. As he went farther from that shop he finally stopped in the park, in which he decided to stay for a while. He sat on a bench and gazed at a ponch in front of him. The man found watching this weirdly soothing for him. Vergil observed a group of ducks with their ducklings. Some of them were swimming on the pond and another part of the group was sitting on the ground while cleaning their feathers.

Vergil realized then he was out of money and did not have a place to stay to sleep in. Ordinary robbing and stealing seemed like an option but then he realized how these activities would complicate his life. A robber prowling in the city would not be left unheard – especially by his own brother. He could optimistically assume Dante would not find that out on his own but Vergil did not feel like risking it. Especially when the last of his overly confident decisions costed him ten years of horror. That made him way more wary of his actions and decisions.

It was more worthy spending his time on looking for a place he could temporarily live in. That was more important to stay somewhere and sleep. He could get money and a flat or a house by force - nobody posed really a treat to him but Vergil realized that would cause more, annoying him issues, after robbing someone from their house or money. It would not only end up in killing one person or two. That was the same issue all over again - his activity would definitely attract Dante’s attention – and against him he was powerless at that moment. The only choice left was to adapt to living homeless.

Vergil found a quite cosy place under a bridge – a typical place for a homeless person, right? He made sure to set that place up to make it as comfortable for him as possible. Fortunately, it was sheltering him from the rain but when it comes to wind that would be a problem.

That was unbelieveable and bizarre for Vergil he had to spend so much time searching for things in junkboxes to find old cardboards and hopefully something what would help him to build a clumsy construction, which would protect him from the wind. That was fortunate he was not entirely a human with an ordinary strength. His demonic power allowed him to do ten times more than a fully-blooded human would - like carrying all of these objects at once – a heavy mattress or certain, old metal structures.

Nobody seemed to pay attention to him, while doing these things. Apparently everyone assumed he was just another homeless citizen searching for food. When it comes to eating, Vergil felt the need to consume something, especially after how hard he worked on looking for materials and making that awkward construction in a hurry. The only way he could get it ‘in Vergil way’ was through robbing stores or people but again Dante remained his biggest threat he did not want to tempt. Another option was simple and classic begging but the brief thought of that made Vergil cringe very strongly. He was too prideful to do such thing and he would rather stay hungry instead.

Around the late evening his new „home” was prepared and suitable to be habitated: he found an old mattress to sleep on, he took an old bin to make a safe camp fire and he made a construction out of old cardboards and metal rods to cover him from the wind and the rain. He could feel his stomach cramping due to hunger he felt. The plans regarding this were left for tomorrow. He could feel his eyes heavy from the exhaustion.

He lighted up the camp fire and laid down on an old mattress. The soothing view of the quickly moving, warm flames had a relaxing effect on the tired Vergil. His exhausted eyes closed and invited him for a dream. Sadly enough not as sweet as the burning flames of the camp fire. That was another night of terrifying nightmares. Same as before – he kept seeing images of his final defeat by Mundus again and again. Powerful sound of Mundus speech echoed in his mind - humilating him. The flashing pain, he had experienced, possessed his body as if when he was once again tortured and experimented on.

As he woke up he grasped loudly. He was covered in sweat, breathing heavily with his heart racing. He hated such human reactions wrecking him so badly. The man covered his face with a palm to give himself some time to relax from the awful dreams. The hunger started to be uneasy to stand for him – to the point he had to give up his pride and start to beg. As much as the idea upset him, he also could not stand these stomach cramps. The truth is he had not eaten anything for many years. A mere mortal would be already dead.

The morning sun was up already so to avoid identification he wore his worn-out cloak all over his head what made it look like a hood. He walked through the town’s streets looking for the most crowded spot, in which there would be a chance to collect the biggest amount of money. The embarassment was painfully consuming Vergil because of what he had to do but his current situation did not give him any different choices. The shame felt towards himself made his cheeks burning almost like a fire. The strange feeling and sensation he was not even familiar with. At least under that hood no one could see his reddish cheeks.

He carried a flat cardboard with him and a can. The man wrote „I’m hungry” with his own blood on the cardboard – with the biggest cringe and embarassment he had ever felt. The most crowded spot turned out to be a promenade. A lot of people walking but clearly busy with their own life. But there was still a hope anyone would notice him and had their soft hearts moved enough.

His “begging station” consisted of an old can – to collect money, and the sign he held. The only thing left for him was just to sit there for several hours and hope for people to donate him enough cash to buy anything to eat. It all started in the morning and then Vergil left the place on early evening. When he checked the can there was barely anything collected. That was close to nothing. Vergil sighed at this view and turned in direction of his „home”.

His past few days were similar: waking up, begging, going to sleep hungry with awful, tiring nightmares. A fear waking him up violently, a burning shame leading him through the day, a painful hunger causing him unbearable cramps, a false sense of hope helping him to fall asleep just to be betrayed by another series of horror. Was there any way to break this miserable circle? All of the plans included some risk. He was too afraid to take any risks. The last one costed him too much to try it again.

** _I won’t run – I will be caught._ **

** _I won’t take any action – I’ll be punished for it._ **

** _The rest of life spent in my own misery – Better than a few years imprisoned and tortured by Him._ **

** _As if all of this wasn’t ironic enough for me to notice I imprisoned and tortured myself because of fear controlling me._ **

One day stood out for him because of a very special moment. Something he did not expect to happen ever again. That day began and continued with the same script with exception of a moment, when he noticed a familiar figure going in his direction.

Vergil recognized quickly that was Dante. That man walked through the street rather happy judging by his small smile on his face. His pose also uncovered a confident energy through his lifted chest and face. As if something good happened to him that day. Suddenly they made an eye contact, what disconcerted Vergil awfuly but also made him worried if Dante had recognized him. He tried not to disclose his shock through any weird according to Vergil movements so instead he froze. Happily, Dante did not recognize the man but Vergil’s behavior surely was not as discreet as he wanted by freezing his natural movement like that. The devil hunter stopped and looked at that hooded man and then glanced at the sign, which Vergil was holding. Dante took his wallet from his pocket and threw him a few coins into his can.

„I hope you’ll have more luck in the future, pal. Take care!” said Dante, he waved his hand at the stranger and continued walking where he had done before.

The feelings Vergil experienced could not be easily described since many of them hit him all at once. That man donated him more money than anyone had done before. His own younger brother – helping him. The can he quickly grabbed was loudly tinkling from the amount of coins hitting its corners. The quantity of them, which made Vergil’s eyes shine from the happiness, was enough to feed him. That was the day he could finally go to sleep full. It was so astonishing to feel so excited just over the mere fact he could just eat that day.

Before he finally achieved the happiest moment of the day, he had to face another humilating thing for him. Shopping in the store. His look disclosed he had not washed for days. The clothes, which he was wearing, had to look dirty and have an awful scent. He got the look of a homeless person and that realization made him cringe.

Before Vergil entered the store, he cleched his fists in determination, squeezed his lips and quickly walked in. Sadly for him there were a few people inside. The store was not really that spacious, so Vergil had to ask the other customers to move sometimes, to reach the stall he wanted. He could not forget the looks of those people – astonishment, disgust and contempt. Sometimes Vergil could feel their gazes contentrating so much on him, he would swear he could feel his back burning from them – or maybe that was only his imagination going wild.

When this hell ended he finally came back „home”. He bought himself a bread and a can of beans. That was exciting to finally feel full for Vergil, what he felt very confused and even slightly embarassed about having such animal and primitive drives. He sat on the mattress and grabbed a bread first. The homeless man teared off the bread in half to consume it easier. No matter what actual quality that bread was, it tasted for him like the best food he had ever consumed.

The second dish needed to be heated up, what did not pose a problem since he had a camp fire. He only made sure to put it at the right distance so it would not burn. Then it was necessary to wait a little. During this preparation a chain of thoughts caught him. At first the lack of Yamato he always carried next to him, very close to his tight, hit him. Even if he could have got it back it was still broken - useless. The power of weakened Mundus overpowered it and destroyed it into pieces. Was not that foolish? This realization made him sigh with a tint of sadness to it. His chain of thoughts moved to Dante, who basically helped him that day. Vergil could not help having very mixed feelings about him.

He took the heated up beans and grabbed a spoon, which he had found the other day, to eat them. During that the fire attracted his attention and its soothing movement invited him to rumination about his early days – before his life turned into an endless circle of running away and fighting for life. He barely thought about his family in the past, sentimentality was definitely not his defining trait, especially how horribly his childhood had ended. Who would like to remember that? But at that moment he started to recall the happy moments.

Vergil recalled when Dante wanted him to go sparring together but instead Vergil prefered to read his favorite book at that moment. That caused the boys to fight and they had to be stopped by their caring, good-hearted mother. His attention moved to the moment when Dante injured himself badly and that made him cry very loudly. The small Vergil rolled his eyes at this but he took the bandages to cover Dante’s hurt knee and tried to cheer him up until the boy stopped sobbing and smiled at him.

Then his thoughts stopped at the memory when his mother gave him her amulet. It caused him to realize that he did not only lose Yamato, which was his father’s offering but he lost his mother’s gift as well. Sentimetality was a trait of the weak. Those were just foolish human sentiments, which should never be born in his mind. No value was lost but their practical purposes – Yamato was a great weapon and an amulet was a key to open the gates to hell. He kept denying it and focused on finishing the can of beans.

Then the sudden memory of losing to Dante and then to Mundus haunted him. This thought and the scary realization of a loss suddenly mixed up into that one specific, odd feeling. As he was eating and looking at the fire his vision blurred, eyes began to blink more frequently to get rid of a sudden excess of tears. Was the fire or the smoke coming from it watering his eyes, he thought. Observing the flames had never given such effects before. Could the smoke coming from the fire make him feel the burning sensations around his eyes, cheeks and in his nose too?

He remembered the speech Mundus gave to him, when he had imprisoned him after the fatal defeat. He would not lose if the human heart he had, which was making him weak, did not hold him back - that was what Mundus said. The overflow building up in his eyes reached its limit, which resulted in tears spilling over his cheeks and falling from his chin. Vergil’s last attempts to stop their fall through squeezing his eyes were nothing more but vainly. That was embarassing and foolish the human reactions were wrecking him so badly during those days. Why he could manage to feel nothing while being impaled in the past but he could not simply stop the liquid coming from his eyes? He felt defeated and humilated by something what was named a curse by Mundus himself. That horrible demon was not wrong, he realized.

On the same evening Dante was in his Devil May Cry’s shop sitting in his classic position – legs on the desk and arms crossed. He was deeply immersed in his thoughts. What could not stop bothering him was the beggar he saw that day. His flood of thoughts was interrupted by Lady, who noticed Dante’s behavior was different from what he normally does.

„What are you wondering about? Did you fall in love already?” Lady asked jokingly to help Dante open up better to his thoughts.

There was a small pause between Lady’s question and Dante’s asnwer. He needed time to snap out of it and realize there was Lady standing just before him, asking him questions.

„Oh, I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” Dante responded.

Lady snorted „You’re so quiet and deep into your thoughts that I start to wonder if you’re in love.”

„Ahhh… No, that’s not that.” Dante paused and sighed „I know I should have moved on long time ago but that beggar I saw today reminded me of someone…”

„Who? Your brother?” Lady’s voice sounded astounded.

„Exactly!” Dante’s pose on a chair changed - he put his legs down from the table quickly and then proceeded to finish what he was about to say „Even if he is definitely dead, isn’t he?”

„Dante…” the woman’s voice expressed care for him „You have to accept it. He’s gone.”

„I know...” Dante sighed „He wasn’t the best person I have ever known but he didn’t deserve this fate. He did so much evil but I still wanted to give him the second chance to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of Part I of his story. This is really one big headcanon of mine just for the sake of tragism. One thing which constantly makes me anxious while writing this story are the constant questions "But is this accurate? Does this headcanon has any basis?". Though knowing that the canon franchise tends to be inconsistent itself I stopped to worry so much, hehe.


	5. Post Nelo Angelo Story Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Vergil's story and finally some thoughts, which Dante was left with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer but definitely not as long as the Chapter 1. This is the last part of Vergil's story regarding his past and the next chapters will be focused on a current time.

Meanwhile just when the sun had risen, that was the time when Vergil had to get up and direct himself towards his set up begging place. This time he decided to walk through one of the less crowded streets. The loud noises and weird looks were exhausting him. The chosen alley was basically empty, so it was right to assume it could be that final peaceful path but suddenly he ended up interrupted by a group of men there. Most of them were skinnier and way shorter than him but the one guy, possibly a leader, towered over him and was ridiculously bulky. It was him, who dared to point a finger at Vergil, thinking he has an advantage over that man because of his primitive, physical fits. The rest of the men stood in such a way that they created a cricle around Vergil and that leader, so he could not simply walk away to avoid them.

„I see you have some money collected.” The bulky man sneered „Are you a prostitute that you have to hide your face like this?”

„If you’re looking for an amusement better look for a dog to bother.” Vergil’s cold and stoic voice sounded through his hood, which he was wearing.

„Is this what you do? We just need money. Give it to us and no harm will happen.” aggressor responded and reached his hand at the can Vergil held.

„I am afraid you will regret this if you don’t give up.” Vergil strengthened his grip holding a can and adopted a position indicating his preparedness to defend himself from possible punches and kicks.

„To be honest I always liked to see faces of people, who are so stubborn against my muscles and height. Look at you, how small you are, do you even have anything but skin and bones under your stinky rag?” the bulky man responded while exposing his quite huge chest and looking down at the homeless man, who was shorter by a half-head.

Vergil could not let him uncover his head – his silver white hair was characteristic enough to identify him and attract unwanted attention. Even if it was only them on that empty street, the rumors spreaded by the rest of the leader’s company would easily pass through Dante. No one but him and Dante had such a hair.

A group of 5 men were standing around him. Was that an issue? No. Only an incovenience.

„This is my last warning: Go in your own way if you don’t want to regret your decision.” Vergil responded in a similarly cold manner as before.

„Acting tough? The let’s see how really tough you are!” and the man attempted to throw a strong punch at Vergil but the homeless man quickly stopped it, and grabbed it in a strong grip to the bandit’s shock.

„This is your last chance to leave” Vergil warned.

The criminal tried to throw another punch with a free hand he had left. That was his worst choice ever. Vergil held at that moment two of his arms. He sinisterely smiled under his hood and asked with a calm but emotionless voice „Which arm do you want to lose, right or left?” while he said that the circle of men took a few steps back and stood there shocked. It seemed like they were about to run away.

„What do you-„ then the man screamed from the pain as Vergil squeezed both of his arms a little stronger.

„I’m not going to repeat myself once more: Which arm do you want to lose?” his sinister smile disappeared but his serious looking face was definitely terrifying enough.

While the man was yelling and moaning from the pain, he only managed to squeak „Left!” and after that Vergil simply crushed that left forearm, which he had held before, only with the strength of the grip. The bones were crushed into very small pieces and the forearm was still connected by the skin tissue. It tore off as soon as Vergil dropped the front of the forearm due to its own weight. He managed to avoid the stream of blood coming from that crushed and ripped off forearm. The circle of men had disappeared when he started crushing the man’s arm, so the bulky man was left alone in a horrific pain to the point he passed out.

Vergil only grabbed his things he had carried before he had been interrupted and calmly went towards the promenade. Once he was there, he did not even seem to remember that situation or he just did not care. It was not like Vergil punished the bandit for assaulting more people than him. That was not really his heroic side emanating. He believed what he did was fair for daring to mess with him and insulting him. But the fact that bulky man was an obvious criminal decided about the severity of a punishment too. If you crossed a line with Vergil you should expect a proper payment for it.

In the morning several days later another of many nightmares was tormenting Vergil before he finally woke up. The dream was different from what he used to see in them. In this vision he ran away from a big, demonic dog – who was hunting him down to capture a fugutive, who escaped from Mundus’ service. Knowing how bizarre and irrational dreams are, he felt he could not run anymore at some point. Vergil carried nothing to defend himself with, what normally would not pose a problem but he was also bereft from all of his demonic power. At that condition he was just a weak, mortal human, who could feel muscles hurt and tremble from running for so long and paralysed with staggering fear. He lied down and tried to cover his face from the anticipated attack of that horrible creature. This huge figure slowed down before it faced Vergil and approached that hopeless, pitiful shadow of Sparda’s son, who only turned his face and squeezed his eyes waiting for the worst of things. Yet what he did not expect was that… demonic dog started to friendly lick his face instead.

He could feel he was slowly getting awake but that licking part of the dream did not stop. The side of his face was truly wet from that. When he opened his eyes it turned out that he was indeed licked by something. Vergil jumped out of the mattress he slept on and adopted a defensive pose. He stood there panicked, breathing quickly, heart hammering on his chest and eyes widened only to realize that there was dog near him. If animals could express feelings on their „faces” like humans or humanoids do, it would look like that dog was smiling at him with its tongue out. That pet did not even seem scared of him, even his sudden movement and posture adopted did not change the dog’s expression. Once Vergil realized that he sighed deeply and felt an extending sensation of relief filling his now slightly trembling body. It took him a while to compose himself so even when he approached the dog he still struggled to breath normally.

That pet was clearly a cross-breed: short, beige, uniform fur, floppy ears and possessed a rather average size for a dog. Vergil had never dealt with any friendly pets his whole life. All this time he only faced disgusting, horrific humans like Akham’s type or deadly demonic creatures. He only had the most basic knowledge about these, not supernatural creatures like that one, which was sitting in front of him.

„Did you get lost?” Vergil spoke as if the dog could answer that question but obviously it was just him thinking loudly. He examined the dog’s physical look once again and the conclusion he got from probably disproved his assumption that dog even had an owner. It did not look well-kept and the ribs were visible through its skin and short fur.

„Apparently we have something in common.” the homeless man commented on that „I suppose the smell of my last dish attracted your attention. You have to work for your own.”

It was expected and typical for homeless, street dogs not to stick around one particular human so Vergil, while realizing this, ignored it and prepared himself for his daily ritual of begging on the streets. That was why he did not even notice that wherever he walked, the dog followed him too. When he found his spot on the street and set it up to sit on and hope for the best, the dog was still around. As he was sitting down there, holding his cardboard sign he glanced at that dog, which was sitting near him. Lastly it laid down and did not seem to move anywere else farther from him. Anyone from the street would easily assume that could be probably his own dog and therefore encourage people to donate more. Especially when people seemed to be always moved more by pets’ tragic fate than humans’. Which dog would stick so close to such a man anyway? This fact made Vergil smirk a little to himself.

„At least there is a good use of you.” he wondered loudly.

After five hours of begging the dog still did not leave him for an inch. Vergil would think „This is curious” at that but at that same moment he realized how water deprived that pet had to be. He only carried his own plastic bottle with water collected from visiting… certain places. Vergil’s reason to help that a little was simple: If you had such a useful tool then it was good to take care of it to keep it useful. He opened his bottle and tried to pour a little of its content on that dog’s mouth. The pet opened it with no hesitation and without needing Vergil to put a force on it. Vergil stopped pouring that after the bottle ended up half full.

„I could see this coming…” he sighed „You anticipate to be fed and drunk. That is a foolery.”

On the evening that was when Vergil ended his begging part of the day and started his counting coins part of the day. As he predicated he got more money than before he had got himself this friendly, homeless dog. That was enough to feed himself twice. But as he was glarring at the can he could see on the edges of his vision that smily face of a said dog. It stood there and waved its tail enthusiastically at his view.

„I see you’re waiting for your part of payment.” Vergil smirked under his hood „Luckily, this is indeed enough to feed me and you without any stretch or saving.”

He still expected the dog to go its way once he left him when he entered the store. That was why he did not specifically bought dog’s food but something what could be eaten by himself just in that case. Surprising for him the dog still sat there patiently. When it saw him it run towards him and roofed joyfully.

„I know you just want food. Don’t worry, you’ll get it and you can go your way.” Vergil looked down at the dog and said that with a very cold voice.

That was still very curious for Vergil that the dog followed him on his way to his shelter, although at that moment he was certain the dog simply expected food from him and that was why it stuck to him so closely. When he sat down on the mattress the dog could not stop barking at him – of course in a friendly way. It even kept a distance from the bag of food Vergil carried, so that was not that type of a homeless, aggressive dog, which would fight for the food. Instead it patiently waited for its turn.

Vergil bought a sausage while having in mind the dog or himself – if the dog would have left. He looked at it briefly and threw that at the dog. Then he took care of himself and ate a piece of bread. After this wealthy dinner Vergil glanced at the place, in which he saw the dog before he had thrown him the food. It still layed there and it seemed to close its eyes slowly. Apparently it decided to spend the rest of the night near Vergil. The homeless man still found that stunning this dog was still near him but he expected it to leave him on the next morning. Homeless dogs never had owners and they would never do.

The nightmares were still haunting Vergil but he felt they were not as bad as before. He was woken up again by the dog licking his face. That surprised him and when he sat on his mattress to take a better look if that was still the same dog he commented to himself „And you didn’t go? Not even to drink?”. As he mentioned the drinking part he realized the dog must have been very thirsty after all that night. He sighed and looked up annoyed and then took the bottle to pour it on one of the metal bowls he found some time ago.

„Let it be a part of your reward as well.” he said that under his breath.

Afterwards it seemed like the dog was ready to spend the rest of the day with Vergil. That kept amazing him but at the same time he rationalized that the dog would stick to anyone, who provided it food.

„You know that I may not be able to feed you all the time. You better look for different sources.” again Vergil spoke to it as if he expected it to understand human language, while they were both following their place of destination.

That part of the day was not very different from the previous one: the dog still stuck around him and waited patiently for Vergil. This time they did not beg enough of money to buy food for two of them. The homeles man found that situation as a real challenge and an incoming confirmation that the dog was there only to be fed and would leave as soon as it would not get it.

„Seemingly I don’t have a proper reward for you. I guess you will have to leave today.” Vergil spoke to it, while being already in his „home”, sitting on the mattress and consuming what he bought only for himself. The dog seemed not to be happy about that and when it realized it would not get anything from that man it only made that squeaky, sad sigh sound, while finally laying down.

Another night was another deal of nightmares tormenting Vergil’s mind but despite that fact he did not feel them as terrifying as two nights ago. He started to wonder if that was because of the dog’s presence even if he found that idea as clearly silly. To his own surprise he was woken up by the same dog all over again. It barked at him happily when Vergil began to stand up from the „bed”.

„So you did not leave. Interesting.” Vergil sounded intrigued „I hope you will do better today.”

His overall scheme of his days was similar to each other. Sometimes he got enough money to feed himself and the dog, sometimes none and sometimes only himself. Despite the fact he could not always afford giving the dog its „rewards” for helping him with begging it stuck around him very close. There were moments when the dog jumped on Vergil just to lick his face – in dog language that was just their way of showing affection to the others. While Vergil himself was not really that affectionate towards the dog and was very careful if he disclosed even a unclear inch of it – especially when he thought that dog was just a very useful tool. Some days later he managed to find a stick big enough to throw it at the dog and let him play with it. It loved it especially when it tended to bark loudly and shake its tail so enthusiastically whenever it saw Vergil holding it and getting ready to throw it. At some point he found himself liking and enjoying the dog’s company. Its presence added variety to his rather schematic life and noticed that it improved his sleep quality. Even if the bad dreams did not go away they were easier to face than before for him.

There was that one significant morning he woke up to. When he got up he felt something was lacking in that morning ritual. Everytime the dog licked his face to wake him up. It did not happen this morning. Vergil found it strange and looked around the shelter to find the dog somewhere near him. He noticed it to sleep near his mattress as it always did through the nights. The man thought to himself that the last days must have exhausted the dog so that was why it slept to the point it did decide to break that morning ritual. He remembered that on the previous day they had a quite active day spent on begging and then having fun together by throwing and catching a stick. It was also a day Vergil could finally enjoy himself for the first time.

„I see, we are both tired. I guess we deserve a break.” Vergil said that under his breath and got back to the mattress for a while.

There was something what raised his concern. The dog always reacted lively to his movement even if it was deep into its sleep. This time it did not even move an inch nor made any sound. He woke up quickly to examine that pet. Vergil approached it slowly and then stood there and glared at it. He could not see it moving – not even its chest. He crounched and tried to touch it and even push it. The dog was very cold and stiff after he moved it. He squeezed one corner of his lips at this view and conclusion.

„She must have been old.” he spoke quietly „She probably knew her life was coming to end and decided to spend it safely.”

He stood up and paced around the dog slowly, getting deeply into his own thoughts. He had to think of the proper burial for that pet and at that point he knew he could only do that at night when no one would see that. The park looked like the best place especially when he spent most of his time there with that deceseased pet. During that time before he could perform a proper burial he searched for something to cover the body. He left his shelter looking for any kind of old clothes, cloaks, rugs or materials to use for that purpose. Vergil also searched for something to dig a proper hole with. At that moment he was fully focused on that task and did not have time to wonder about that dog’s unexpected death, which undoubtely did upset him even if he did not express that on the outside.

When a deep night finally fell he took the body of the dog covered in an old blanket he found. It took him a while to arrive to the place he had chosen and the view of that pet caused him to feel a real chest-ache. Vergil made sure to check if he was surely alone when he got in there and then began to dig a hole on the ground. The place was on the edges of the park and it was rarely visited, so barely anyone would tell the difference. When the hole was deep enough he took the dog’s body and he could not hesitate saying „Rest in peace…” when he was holding it and looking at its face without its spark of joy it once had. After a short break he took, he buried it, while feeling incredibly weak and down.

During the next days Vergil did not feel like doing anything what was even crucial for him to survive his homeless period of life. He did not beg and did not search for water and just wandered around in places he used to visit with the friend he had made. And his dreams worsened to the point he could be attacked by them even during a day. He could simply watch the view of a river from the bridge and zoon out into a hellish circle of nightmares and illussions of demons going after him. At least he could still tell when he was truly attacked by the demons and when it was just his mind tricking him. Speaking of which, he was unlucky enough to actually face one.

The other day when he was also wandering towards the promenade, what interrupted him that day was something truly special and different from the drunk men or bandits trying to beat him up. At first Vergil did not even notice anything in particular with exception of crumping, weak sounds. But that noise became stronger and stronger and the ground’s trembling became more prominent the louder it was. On the last second Vergil dodged to avoid a huge creature from storming him. Because of that a monster collided with a building in front of him and Vergil. That crushed and destroyed the walls but the building still did not fall completely. They ended up in an empty alley together.

Even if Vergil had no weapon to use, especially the great one, which was Yamato, he could still defend himself against that giant creature. That monster was as tall as that 3-floor tenement house. The issue was that devil arms and specially enhanced with ancient spells weapons, could actually kill demons. Anything else can at most leave such monsters unconsious with enough of force, which barely anyone has. That was why even the greatest army could not do much against an attack of demons. Their guns, tanks or rockets could only harm demons but not enough to make them lose their consciousness. But was there something what even devil arms or these special enahnced weapons could not kill? Actually yes – demon hybrids. That did not mean they could not be harmed but killing them that way was impossible.

Vergil possessed that knowledge and that was why he found that situation annoying. To leave that place unharmed, he had to smack the monster so much it would end up motionless for long enough to escape. He had to think for brief minutes how to fight against that monstrosity. That place looked like a rubble after the demon fell into that tenement house. The pieces of the wall and floor were lying around the alley. That did not seem like anything useful in a fight. There was something else destroyed as well. A few of the street lights, which were like these ones used near the roads, had broken when the monster had tried to storm Vergil. They broke at the very bottom and a few of them layed all over the street. The man already had a plan made up but he cringed at it realizing its stupidity, lack of grace and lack of precision because of that.

The giant demon tried to recover himself from falling into the building and being buried in its rubble, during that Vergil was already getting closer to him, preparing himself to taunt the demon.

„The size without precision and skill is like a newborn throwing tantrums because he cannot precisely use his chubby hands to crush an ant.” the calm, stoic voice came from the hooded figure moving slowly towards the giant.

The demon did not seem to be able to speak, at least in a language understood by Vergil but his speech definitely infuriated that demon. It immediately ran towards Vergil, waving his claws randomly hoping to harm him that way. The man dodged that attack and all of sudden he turned into a dark blue smoke for a few short moments, just to reappear near the broken, laying street lamp. He took that lamp with an ease into his both hands to use it like a ridiculously long and big hammer or a spear. Vergil definitely was not a fan of heavy weapons but he had no different choice at that moment. He jumped at the monster and hit it with that lamp with a full force.

Both things did not survive that attack – Vergil’s lamp and that giant. It layed down unconsious, while falling down on the another tenement house, ruining it completely and the lamp broke in the place, which hit the monster. The man could hear a familiar voice from the distance and two other female voices. He immediately knew, who that was and he made up his rushed plan to pretend he was actually just a hopeless, ordinary human beggar, who was attacked. He layed down and put the lamp on his stomach, so he could pretended he was crushed by that, therefore could not escape the monster.

Dante and his company arrvived very quickly and looked around that place. The devil hunter noticed the giant monster laying on the building, buried by its crushed pieces. It did not seem to move for that moment. Then he spotted that homeless man. He did not rise any suspicion for Dante and he ran into him to help him free himself from the lamp supposedly crushing him and limiting his movement.

„Hey pal. I told you to have more luck, not more trouble.” Dante took the lamp into his hands and moved it so the beggar could free himself.

Afterwards devil hunters could notice the sudden movement of the huge demon and prepared themselves for a fight. As soon as Vergil stood up Dante pushed his back and yelled at him „Run away! This place is gonna be messy!”.

The homeless man ran as fast as he could without causing suspiscion he was not actually as ordinary as most of people assumed looking at him. He felt relieved that his identity was not discovered and he simulated his helplessness very convincingly.

After several years of leading this kind of life style, Vergil could notice on mirrors or his reflections that endless series of nightmares even caughing him during days took a tool on him physically. It was not only exhaustion he felt everyday due to sleepless nights. For odd reasons his whole body was simply desintegrating and was slowly crumbling. Whenever he looked at his reflection, what he did rarely in those days, instead of seeing a relatively young, clean face all he could see was a sad shadow of what it used to look like. It was full of cracks and depigmentation. His whole body became weaker and weaker, to the point even simple walking made him struggle horribly. Even breathing was a struggle. He felt that his final days were near.

But there was that one day, which decided on his whole future. He begged as always on the same promenade but he spotted something very intriguing him. It was not like he spotted it with his own eyes. He felt it and then he knew where to look for it. He noticed a young man – with very white hair. It was not Dante. He wore a long dark blue coat and he seemed to walk in a direction of Devil May Cry’s shop. What shocked Vergil the most was he could sense that boy possessed his weapon – Yamato. That was hard to explain how he could feel that, he did not even know it was possible to sense a weapon but at that moment he did and was certain, who carried it.

He stood up from his begging place and decided to track, where the boy was going. Vergil made sure not to be detected for doing that. As soon as the young boy tried to turn his head to check if somebody follows him, Vergil’s smoky dodge did the trick. Somehow that was weird for Vergil not to ask himself about the boy’s identity. He had a white hair and his arm was very odd for a human. It could not be more obvious the boy must have been Sparda’s descendant. But at that point Vergil did not even possess any rational and consciouss qualities anymore – he was just a walking flesh of pain and nightmares. The only things triggering his associations, actions and thoughts, were the strongest of his memories or feelings at such condition. All that mattered was to get his sword back hoping to get rid of something what was putting him down as he believed. In a such poor mental state there was only one desire screaming in his head – defeat Dante. Defeat him for not being there for him. Defeating him because he was just lucky. He stole all of the luck from him, that was what this mental wreck’s delusions were.

Therefore it did not matter who that boy was. What was important was the Yamato – the only chance to free himself from the darkness consuming him slowly until he would decay entirely. He followed him through several means until he finally found out the house, in which he lived in, then a garage. That was where the known story started.

***

Some of the parts of the story were omitted by Vergil especially the parts regarding his mental state or the uncontrolled by him moment of his sudden mental breakdown. Even if the time spent in hell made the brothers become closer to each other that was not enough for Vergil to speak openly about his own moments of vulnerability.

During certain parts of the story Dante’s expressions were shifting vividly, what was something what Vergil found slightly distracting him and making him even more careful at the use of words and at choosing the parts to tell. Despite the fact the most dominant expression plastered on his younger brother’s face was disbelief, shock and then remorse, deep down he felt irrationally guilty of his older brother’s fate.

Some of the most prominent parts of Vergil’s story were surely met with Dante’s comments and requests for explanation. One of them sounded like the following:

“Did you really have to rip off that guy’s arm? Do you have ripping limbs fetish, Vergil?” Dante stressed his subtle disgust at Vergil’s rough way of dealing with people but then he proceeded to sneer at his older brother’s favorite “game” with human’s limbs.

“I can reasurre you it’s only a coincidence.” Vergil deflected.

“But still… Couldn’t you just punch that guy? One hit and he’d lie down like a bitch.” Dante said.

“With such a large group of his friends around I think it was the most efficient threat to show what I was really capable of.” Vergil replied “These tricks would only encourage them.”

“Well… Maybe there is some truth to that.”

On the other part of told story Dante found himself laughing at the moment, in which Vergil spoke about fighting with a street lamp out of pure desperation.

“Man, man!” Dante laughed “I wish I could see that! My brother, who hates when a fight is done without a class, was jumping around the demon with such shit!”

Vergil found his amusement understandable and silently chuckled with him until he proceeded to tell the part, in which he pretended to be just a human when Dante arrived to rescue him.

“To be completely serious I always felt something was off! But I was too reassured of your death that it never fully occurred to me. Damn, you tricked me very well then!” Dante spoke.

“I’m glad you appreciate my acting skills.” Vergil winked.

“No! Not that wink! I absolutely hate when you do it!” Dante pretended to be annoyed.

He knew what was Vergil referring to. As a young boy whenever he had tricked him to believe in something, for example, in a monster under his bed, then Vergil winked when Dante had discovered himself that was not true. Some time later the wink itself had been a way of misleading him, which resulted in turning it into a very annoying trick for Dante.

The story regarding the homeless dog was stripped off of parts in which he found himself attached to the dog. Nonetheless not omitting the part about making a burial for it made Dante suspicious.

“So the dog was just a good tool…?” Dante seemed to wonder about something.

“Yes, nothing more.”

“The thing is… Why did you bury it? And why in the park? That was far from your shelter.”

“Are you trying to imply something? Dead bodies must be buried out of hygienic reasons, Dante.” Vergil kept reassuring his reasons were not emotionally driven.

“But under that bridge you had a river, didn’t you?” Dante began to smile knowing that Vergil was simply speaking bullshit to him “A few steps in there and the body could be thrown.”

“I don’t think that matters where the body ended up rotting.” Vergil felt annoyed.

“You don’t want to say that but you liked the dog, didn’t you? No one does a burial for just a ‘tool’.” Dante kept sneeringly smiling.

“Believe in what you want to believe in, Dante. Let me continue what happened next.”

When the story came to an end the younger brother was both impressed and terrified. By several things but mostly with Vergil’s insistence of staying undercover even after his resurrection.

„You were so close all the time. Damn it, Vergil!” Dante exclaimed „I always felt that you were there… But I was too much reassured you were dead. Why did you refuse to get help? Oh I see, I forgot. You’re Vergil. Vergil doesn’t need help. Especially his own brother’s. Am I right?”

„The younger Vergil. The younger one.” Vergil decided to correct Dante’s assumption.

„Man…” Dante took a pause to sigh and covered half of his face with a hand „Yours and Nero’s stubborness can be annoying as hell but yours is… or was just another level of idiocy.”

„That was Mundus’ idiocy.” Vergil suddenly exclaimed „If you were brainwashed for years that way everything would be seen as an incoming threat.”

That sudden burst of Vergil’s anger caught Dante off guard. His brother’s resentment was not that loud as his son’s but the growl slipping through that speech felt menancing even more than Nero’s shouts.

Indeed, several years in service conditioned his mind to expect threat from each side. Even people he would find trusting. Any of his actions and thoughts disliked by Mundus were severely punished. That way the internalization of these strict actions was influencing his choices even after he had finally broken free. Even if the real chains were gone, there were still there somewhere deeply imprinted in his mind. Too scared to reach out anyone’s help believing that would cost him a lot.

Dante realized he was insensitive with his assumptions. Despite the fact his older brother was generally a problematic person but some of his actions could not be fully blamed on his messed up personality but on the experience of trauma as well.

„Sorry. Forgot about it. Sometimes I’m an asshole too.” Dante apologized.

To break that awkward atmosphere started by that foolish brother of Vergil’s, the guilty one decided to invite him to choose a weapon, he had promised him to give in exchange of hearing that story.

„Alright, Vergil. Now pick a weapon you want the most. There’s many to choose from. But remember, only one!” Dante tried to sound playfully all over again and he left the desk to signalize he would take him for a little tour through his weapon collection. The younger brother attempted to encourage the older one to stand up by slightly patting his shoulder.

Vergil slowly moved from a chair, which he had been sitting on in front of Dante, and walked in a direction Dante quickly went to. There was that special place dedicated to display all of the weapons he possessed. Upon seeing such impressive collection Vergil could not help commenting on that.

„It seems like that’s the only thing unaffected by your growing debt.” while saying this he sounded a little snarky.

„Oh, shut up! Now, pick a weapon.” Dante refuted Vergil’s snarky remarks, while the older brother only reacted to his annoyance with a genuine snort.

„Balrog looks like a weapon I need the most.”

„Balrog! Oh hell no!”

„You promised something. Remember?”

Dante sighed with an expressed pain of losing something he enjoyed the most.

„Let it be. It’s yours now… Now please take it from my sight before I’ll try to steal that from you!”


	6. Payment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Vergil began to take the money of the clients owning to Devil May Cry for more or less current missions. The ruthless nature of a said new devil hunter makes the task easier to enforce than for someone as compassionate as his younger twin brother. Yet something as outwardly simple as that has the power to astonish even the coldest one of Sparda's kin with (un)expected little twist.

After the story night Vergil showed up in Devil May Cry’s shop in a task he had agreed to with Dante. A mission which was considered tough to do for his younger brother because of his soft spot for the people in need. Vergil was between scoffing that kind of behavior and understanding that to a degree. But his view on taking money from people was unchanged. If people, who came for help, could not pay for it from the very beginning they should deal with consequences of their actions. That means he would make sure they would pay that amount as soon as they have enough.

Fortunately, his rather threatening and cold demeanor, which was the opposite to the more chilled out but warm attitude of his brother, saved him from working also as a bailiff. Whoever went in and spotted his dignified style and trenchant, cold face behind the desk, which he was sitting next to, no one dared to go on debt for him. His expression spoke itself that you would better not argue with him about the payment. Sometimes he had to accept as a payment normally expensive objects – gold and silver jewelry – or even family memorials, which happened to be incredibly valuable.

Not all clients were this awfuly poor but surely a half of them were. Sometimes on his shifts he could hear some of the people muttering how much they had lost everything without specifying how or how much in debt they were. Dante always had a soft spot for the people, who had similar experiences to his – losing their house for a demon attack, losing a relative to a demonic monster or people in debt. And since a lot of his clients shared similar tragedies to his then no wonder why so many times Dante was left with nothing but growing debt.

On the first day of his work Vergil found it rather more necessary to clean up that mess left by his younger brother first. A bunch of empty bottles either cluttering the desk itself or laying around the floor just below it. Absolutely disgusting. Not to mention the choking odour coming from them. All of them were once beer bottles emptied by Dante in some days.

The posters on the wall were nearly offensively disgusting for him and sitting just before them seemed as something humiliating him but whenever he took them off Dante insisted to keep them. That was an unnecessary battle to fight for in the end. At least Vergil could fix that filthy image with the books he brought in and laid on the desk. Definitely that would emphasize his intellectual, as he believed, nature instead of that primitive hedonistic nature of Dante, as Vergil believed. _How vain of you, Vergil._

Sometimes Trish and Lady paid him a visit. Not for very long, most of the time they came to take the weapons or to prepare them. It was apparent they did not find him worth trusting. Their quick gazes at him disclosed either high suspicion of his actions or disgust with his own person. Not surprisingly. Lady could not help seeing Vergil as what her father was for her. She remembered how upset Nero had been when he had found out, who was his father. It reminded her of how she had been feeling towards Arkham until she had killed him herself. Surely, she would never advocate for finishing Vergil’s life. Even ending her own father’s life was something she felt guilty of and would never do that again. And she highly respected Nero’s decision. That was something she even felt jealous of sometimes.

Yet Lady felt the rather justified need to be more wary of Vergil. How could everyone be sure the man did not plot behind their backs? Why were they so sure Vergil was not as talented in manipulation and playing a role as her own father? There had to be a reason why they sticked together so much… but not everyone realized that Vergil never had any positive feelings to Arkham to begin with. Even he felt disgusted with that man’s actions. But he had been just a tool, like everyone had seemed to be for him in the past. At least Vergil gave an impression that there were people he saw as something more at that moment. Especially Dante, who he had a good contact with and that was definitely unrelated to being just somebody useful.

Someday Vergil found this job a bit monotonous. It always went with the same script: a client walks in, Vergil tells him the figure, a client may either pay while thanking for the help or tries to elude paying in hopes that a debt or a loss is enough of an excuse and then has to eventually give up and pay. This simply needed to change. Perhaps provoking people to actually tell their stories would help? He did not care for their issues before but at that moment a bit of variety felt necessary. So he tried that out with one of his clients and it is hard to say how that turned out for Vergil.

The client in question showed up with his wife. She missed a leg. The first assumption regarding this whole image was the man hoped he would somehow soften Vergil’s a heart of stone by bringing his disabled lover. Bold of him to assume this! But what if he was not entirely wrong? Some of the questions asked by Vergil provoked the man to tell him a bit more:

“I am so happy that there are people out there fighting against that hellish locust. I am so thankful for your help! Do you see my wife? She lost her leg to them! Do you know how?” the man spoke, while sounding rather moved.

“I suspect a demon. Is that true?” Vergil responded.

“Exactly! That was the day… maybe you know… when that big tower appeared out of blue! I’ve heard that a certain maniac did this. My wife would almost lose her life but at least she only lost her leg. I also lost most of my family then. Rest in Peace my dearest mother. And because of such mad men we need you, Vergil! I’m so happy there are people like you out there, saving us from that mess!” a man genuinely smiled at Vergil and reached his hand to shake it with him.

While the situation turned out not just awkward but awfuly awkward for the freshly recruited devil hunter. The maniac he spoke of… Technically that was Arkham but without his own contribution and help none of that would indeed happen. The man before him cheered to someone, who was actually responsible for that destruction. For his wife’s loss of a leg. For his family being wiped out by the demons just like his own. That whole bloodshed it was his contribution. His own actions and choices. The situation was hard to dodge. He had to pretend as if the man’s assumptions were correct. He never felt this horrible before. None of the situations forced him to reconsider his own actions like this until now.

They both shook their hands, while Vergil tried to force a fake smile to avoid any suspicion. The client then asked about the amount he had to pay. An everyday task to do for Vergil, right? Just take the money and the client is gone.

For the first time ever he refused to take the proper payment. His mind became crowded with two voices arguing, while one of them was the one he had not heard for very long time. One scolded him for submitting for foolish human sentiments – just like his childish, irresponsible younger brother. The other one upheld the decision - there were not many possibilities to fix mistakes as huge as his but even a tiny, symbolical attempt was a good direction towards it.

Does it mean his heart of stone turned out not to be made of stone at all? Or perhaps the guilt, which came to a voice some time ago, had the power to crush this rocky wall built around the heart for years? That situation left him with many thoughts to consider and analyze.

Guilty thoughts aside but there was also another thing for him to think about. How not to embarrass himself in front of Dante with the fact he had such a moment of weakness. How to explain that? Where to find the money to fool him everything went according to his plan? So much sneer and pointing out his own superiority over Dante’s actions being easily influenced by his own feelings just to commit the same mistake, perhaps for a different reason but still. _Foolishness, Vergil, foolishness._

The unexpected guilt trip was an invintation for another battle. Scoffing and sneering was a known for him tactic to belittle such thoughts. It used to be a very effective coping mechanism in the past but today he felt it failed him. It did not set the same kind of distance between him and the painful truth as he always achieved. Such a condition naturally evoked some unwanted voices coming from his mind. The facts what he was like really. He did not want to pay attention to that. His mind kept jumping from scoffing the facts to judging himself. That endless circle of shame and suppression exhausted the man.

As he was finally home all he desired the most was to lay on his comfy bed and close his heavy eyes. A dream, in which he could find some peace for the next few hours, was one of his biggest wishes at that moment. And so he finally fell asleep.

He could feel a warm of his mother's arm wrapping him in a soft, lovely manner. It seemed like they were all gathered in a certain family event. Eva, Dante, Sparda and him sitting around the table full of delightful dishes. His mother and him facing Dante and Sparda, who were clearly focused on food. His few glances around helped him to recognize the place of that gathering. A living room once beautifully arranged in their family mansion.

Vergil was a seven year old boy with Dante once again. Their polar opposite temperaments could be easily observed through such an everyday activity like sitting and eating. His younger brother already finished everything he had had put on a plate. It was evident he was in a rush while doing so. The messy, stained white tablecloth on his side was a clear indicator. What did he feel so impatient about? Getting to his favorite part of the day - sparring. Dante hated to "rot" in the house, while the outside offered so much variety. Parents only forced him to stay until they were all finished. His impatience was signalized with his constant change of position on a chair. It seemed like he was close to exploding out of this.

Vergil carefully used the cutlery and made sure not to stain anything, although for such a child it was still forgiveable to leave a few of them. But his future precision of his moves was already showing even if that was not something he worked on. Dante seeing how slow his older brother was made him sigh with annoyance and verbalized how much he wanted him to finally finish this "hellish" dinner and go playing with him.

Vergil insisted to stay inside to watch the collection of books his mother had. Sparring with wooden swords not only sounded boring but also exhausting. The intriguing and mysterious world covered by just words seemed to be an obvious best option for him. Upon hearing this decision, Dante only spoke awfuly disappointed "Really?!". Fortunately Sparda volunteered to cheer up his disappointed son and teach him a few new tricks instead. This promise instantly brightened this small boy's face and put a big smile on his adorable, blushing face.

While Vergil was sparred a few new bruises he always got from their friendly fights. Swords were not his jam and dedicating his life for books seemed like a pleasing idea for him. Owning a library with a constantly growing collection of unique literature to read. Better than this adoration for aggressive tendencies, which promised nothing good, he believed as a small boy.

Their own family collection was already outstanding and overwhelming. He was just a 7 year old boy and even his mind was not mature enough to process and understand all the messages coming from these dusty books. That was why his mother was there. She knew what would interest her son and would be matched to his age. Vergil adored all the books picked up by her.

That was a really enormous library for even a family like them. The sound of their steps echoed as they walked through that room. It was that enourmous. This little son followed his mother without leaving her by an inch. This warming feeling of love to her he felt in that dream was so long forgotten by him and replaced with nothing but cold bitterness. So undeservedly for such a sweet, loving woman, who died bravely, trying to save her other son instead of hiding with the one she had found.

Suddenly another steps could be heard from the distance. They were too heavy and too slow to belong to Dante. Perhaps Sparda had come back? Vergil felt the need to examine that. Something about it felt off to him. As he was coming closer to the door, which he had entered from earlier, he spotted an unfamiliar figure standing near it. Its whole image, which was necessary to identify that person, was covered by a cloth covering his whole body. From the top of his head to his foot. But there was something sticking out of it. It seemed to be a weapon he carried.

A stranger, who saw a boy standing on his way, did not hesitate simply pushing him aside. Something as ordinary as pushing felt incredibly powerful, which made Vergil ending up laying on a floor instead. Anxiety building up in his body screamed about this being a threat. He rushed to the place he had been with his mother before.

Killing anyone in that place did not seem to be a plan of this stranger. After taking a few confident steps he stopped and crouched in purpose of examing certain symbols engraved on floor. Both Vergil and Eva stood there astonished. The young boy clinged to his mother's dress, very scared and hoping she would find a solution to that terrifying situation. Eva did not carry any weapon with her at that moment. They were all weaponless but that did not stop her from confronting that stranger with just words.

“Who are you? Reveal yourself!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t think that matters.” A stranger responded without stopping his examination of the symbols “THIS is what actually matters.”

It seemed like a man activated something. The encraved symbols began to glow but apparently more had to be done. His mother’s scared reaction to this fact suggested the incoming threat coming through these engravings. What were they?

“Stop it now! If you open this portal, you will-“ Eva was interrupted instanantiously.

“Open the gates of hell and receive the long gone hidden power. Is this what you’re upset for?”

“We will all die! You don’t understand what you’re doing!” she cried while wrapping her arms around little Vergil.

“I understand it very well.” A stranger removed a weapon from its sheath to make a cut on his hand. It was apparent blood was needed for that unknown ritual. Eva screamed fearfuly and desperately, tightening her hug around her son.

Once glowing symbols turned into a gap on a floor from which light emerged and so the blood-hungry demons. An odd glowy sphere came out of it and was immedietaly caught by a man. He held it near his face perhaps to check it carefully. There was something important about that object. Something crucial for power he had spoken about before but little Vergil still could not understand its importance. Not when it meant sacrificing so many lifes to get it.

A stranger suddenly stood up. An unidentified object seemed to be absorbed by the man’s hand. Then he took off his cloth revealing that way his true identity.

A long coat ending just before his ankles. White, sleek but spiky hair. Yamato in its sheath held in his hand. And an obvious color palettle of his majestic coat – something he used to wear – a turquoise one. His face did not disclose anything but cold, mercilessness and no tint of humanity left. His gaze shown nothing but indifference to the shivering child and his weeping mother.

The monsters unleashed from a breach connecting human and demon world spread all over their room – destroying everything they came across. All the books ended up scattered and their shelves knocked over. The broken glass coming from the windows was still falling down and threatening a certain injury if one would not hide from it.

One of the beasts got closer unnoticed behind mother’s and son’s backs. Eva sensed her incoming death but upon that realization she would be about to be impaled by the demon’s enormous, mighty claws she pushed her son at the front. The only way she could save him. Vergil screamed shocked and frightened. He wanted to go back but before he even turned around, a beast was finishing his perfect assassination. It pierced its claw perfectly through her own heart. Her body dropped dead horrifingly just before his little, childish eyes.

His nineteen year old self stood there and watched the dramatic scene unmoved. His cold eyes did not even twitch upon seeing his own mother brutally killed and her little son left alone to die. The seven year old Vergil felt a mixture of extreme feelings – helplessness and incredible hatred to the man staying there before him. He was responsible. He killed his mother. He started a genocide.

“Why did you have to do that?!” the little boy wept.

“When you grew old enough you will understand.” A cold voice spoke “Take it as a lesson. Never rely on anyone but yourself. Without strength you cannot protect anything. Even yourself, little child.”

“Lesson?! What lesson?!”

Suddenly a running Dante rushed to that massacre of a once peaceful room. A frightened and confused expression painted on his face but he held his wooden sword ready to fight. How fortunate he did not see Eva’s dead body… yet.

“Who are you?! You better stop it or I’ll give you a good spanking!” little Dante tried to sound unafraid and bravely.

The grown man in question only responded to little child’s threats with a laugh.

“You better watch not to end up as a prey instead. I’m leaving.” conveniently the man used the open breach to end up in Underground. Even when he left through the portal it was still left open and so the swarms of demons did not stop emerging from it to prey on humans.

Dante felt the responsibility to help his brother and save him from this unleashed hell of blood hungry demons. One thing, which ended his life was lack of experience in actual fighting. His childish attempts at launching any serious strikes with his laughable wooden sword costed him nothing more but life.

Vergil watched his brother impaled and then torn to pieces like a doll. He covered his eyes when he was about to see demons tearing out his little brother’s head. The beast seemed to struggle at wrenching it properly and deforming this poor boy’s neck that way. _Terrifying. Terrifying_. And also his mother’s body with a bloodly hole on her just laying just next to him. _He hated this. He really hated this._

He hated himself. _This is what people actually felt all this time_.

A very loud gasp sounded around the room. He woke up. Covered in sweat and breathing fast. A very familiar reaction he always got from his dreams in the past but this time that was something new. The nightmare was not just something from the past. It continued to that day – a burden, which he carried, could not be redeemend with anything.

A disgust with himself filled his body to the point he would even swear he was about to puke out of it. He was afraid to continue sleeping but on the other hand he hoped this feeling would at least fade away. This could not be dodged with just scoffing. He could not ignore that either. His contribution on human’ tragedies was clear and never considered what his actions would lead to. He was too selfish to see he was not the only person struggling and needing relief. Not with such a cost. Why did this finally occur to him just now?

The next day of gathering the well-deserved money was entirely different from that moment. His guilt grew enourmous to the point he barely felt comfortable taking anything and hearing people’s gratefulness for his “good” actions under Devil May Cry shop made him feel sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vergil's guilt train is getting crazy!


	7. A Hellish Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deeply asleep Dante was woken up by a phone call in his shop. As soon as his confusion worn off he remembered Patty's friend had a birthday party, which she would like to see him participate in. A legendary devil hunter did not feel content with this idea but on the other hand deceiving her with another poor excuses did not seem ideal either. He came up with an amusing compromise solving this issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest this is borderline crack chapter. Perhaps a bit of air just before a more serious chapter following this one.

A very loud sound of a ringing phone echoed just right into Dante’s ear, who laid on a desk, while taking a longer nap. It took him a while to realize what was really that noise. Much more time than necessary to jump out of his desk automatically. And then he immediately put it all together that the sound was coming from the phone, which was placed just next to him. That sudden “alarm” did not wake him up completely, what he could feel through the blurriness of his vision and his confusion about the situation in general – what that thing even was and what time really was. Then he finally remembered why the phone was even ringing in the first place.

He thought loudly to himself, while covering his face with a hand.

“Damn, that’s Patty’s friend’s birthday party. She’s also a big girl now… I knew I couldn’t get away with it that easily…” he wondered loudly to himself “I must either show up or distract her.”

“But what if…?” he suddenly snorted “I wonder if he’ll take this bait.”

He waited until the phone stopped ringing and as quickly as possible he dialed a number. As soon as he had done it a familiar voice answered the phone. A voice which carefully chose the right wordings, kept its tone in check and spoke incredibly softly for somebody with a such rough personality – it belonged to his older brother – Vergil himself speaking on a phone.

“Listen, Vergil. I have an untypical request for you…” Dante began to speak.

“Huh? Interesting how untypical that is.” Vergil responded, while curiosity started to rise in his voice.

Wording the request the right way was hard for Dante without making himself sound as if he was joking. In reality that was a serious ask for help aside from its comedic frame.

“Haha, well, here’s the deal. The birthday party of one of my friends. As much as I’d love to be there I’m too busy with working on my shitty financial issues. You know that, we talked about that earlier and better not go back to it. So I don’t want to upset her. That’s why I believe inviting my own big brother will make her day.” Dante described, while his voice was disclosing a bit of insecurity due to his concern if his lying would pass as true. Luckily the quality of the phone connection was bad enough to the point when Vergil could not hear that shaky, nervous voice of an obvious liar through his own handset and bought that story easily.

“What will I get for doing that?” obviously Vergil would not always do everything for free.

“My… graditude?” Dante laughed nervously into a phone.

The awkward answer of his younger brother made Vergil burst into a laugh but suddenly he regained his composure to continue on a serious note.

“I guess you can pay me with another weapon you have.”

“Ugh, really?” at that moment Dante sounded like a very disappointed teenager discovering how sad the world really is. After a while he responded with an exaggerated pain in his voice “Okay, then. Let be it. Anything for Patty anyway.”

“Patty?” Vergil asked.

“She’s my friend. And her friend has a party. She’d be very, very sad if no one would show up.” Dante responded, while he was purposely stressing his voice on “very, very sad”.

“Is she and her friend very young?”

“Yeah, Patty is 19 and her friend around 18.”

“What should I expect from a party of such young women?”

Dante would almost say “Everything” but he stopped himself on the right moment and decided to take advantage of his brother’s cluelessness on the current human world.

“You remember our birthday parties? Forget our age then. They are all the same anyway.” Dante could not almost stop himself from giggling.

“Eating a cake, gifts and… perhaps spending that day in the garden?” Vergil replied, while sounding a bit embarrassed about his lack of knowledge regarding such common human celebration.

“Yeah, yeah. Very nice, calm event.” Except all Dante said was the exact opposite of the reality.

“Hmmm… That looks to be something nice. A nice price for another weapon in my humble collection.” surely Dante was blessed about Vergil’s legitimate cluessness about the true price of his weapons at that moment.

“So you agree to it?” Dante asked.

“I see no reasons for not to. All I need to know where and when I should show up.” Vergil spoke.

Upon hearing the acceptance of his request through the phone Dante quietly said to himself “Yes” and clenched his hand into a fist and move it quickly to his chest. Then he proceed to explain the more informative part of the party, which Vergil asked for.

That mentioned event was meant to happen on the next day and start around early evening. Conveniently the location of it was placed on the same town as Dante’s point of Devil May Cry shop. What little did Vergil know was what kind of hell he had really agreed to. That was what Dante could not help laughing about as soon as he informed Patty about the exceptional guest coming to fill in his place. More than two incredibly, over-excited gambling girls were too much to handle for a person like Dante, then how somebody valuing silence and manners (in its own irony) like Vergil would stand this hell?

On early evening on the next day a man showed up on the door of a nice looking house. Just like his younger brother insisted on, Vergil did not bring Yamato with himself. That was a decision he questioned the whole time he was trying to arrive on that place. What even got into him to agree to such an idea? Even if he already stood just before the door he still wondered if he should go back for it. But at this point he had to give up and finally accept this fact. Instead he carried a little gift, which he was meant to give instead of Dante. The door bell’s rang as he pushed the button on a wall just next to it.

Two loud girls emerged from the gustily opened door and forcefully pushed him to the inside. And at this point Vergil _knew… he fucked up._

The incoherent noise of overly-excited young girls sounded in Vergil’s ears violently and what he could pick up from that chaos was “Is this Dante’s brother? He looks gorgeous just like him!” and “Are you shy? Say something!”. That was not shiness but more of how the situation was too overwhelming. Swarms of deadly demons attacking from behind with a superhuman speed was almost an everyday deal for him. Loud music and several guests wanting to talk with him all at once? That was alien to him. At that moment Vergil deeply regretted the lack of Yamato. Not because he had any murderous intentions, that was something what never crossed his mind. Instead he had an incredibly strong urge to make a portal with Yamato and just leave. But he listened his dumbass brother and now dealt with consequences of doing so.

“You are pale. Are you ok?!” one of the girls touched and tugged his sleeve to draw his attention and force him to respond that way.

Yes, he was and he hated it. Many years of perfecting his self-control and endurance to stress failed him all at once that day. A bunch of immature girls and the loud music caught him off guard and simply destroyed his calm pose built for years. What he did not understand was the anxiety consuming him so much. Vergil was not at all close to passing out but he felt the need for a rest horribly. His legs apparently were about to give up.

“I need to sit somewhere.” he managed to keep his voice steady to avoid attracting even more attention to him.

The blonde one approaching him seemed to understand his current condition and reached her hand to softly push his back in intention of directing him to the less crowded seat. They both sat down on the corner, which was farthest away from the dancing girls and where the loud music was a bit quieter. Not even twenty minutes passed and Vergil felt already exhausted.

“You’re Vergil, right? Dante’s brother?” the blonde girl initiated a conversation.

“Yes.” Vergil replied while heavily sighing.

“He could have warned you’re not as social as him.” she chuckled in attempts to loosen up the man in question.

“Indeed.”

“Are you feeling better now?” She asked.

He did not but sitting in one place and his passive observation allowed him to keep himself in check and control his borderline panic mode. His stoic demeanour dropped long time ago and revealed an expression of someone, who was defeated. The expression he carried would make everyone take a pity for him. The loud, catchy human music and the girls cheering to that broke this man. The man who never feared slaying demons nor commiting his crimes. Why did his body give up at this point?

“Yes.” he lied but the painful smile he made was not left unnoticed by the girl. But to disctract her attention from him he showed the little box he carried “That’s a gift Dante wanted to give.”

“It’s from him? I’ll tell her! Just wait here please!” and to Vergil’s relief he was finally left alone. Not for long but each minute spent alone was worth it. The hell he was put in could last hours from his point of view.

After a while he started getting used to that noise and atmosphere. His panicked body stopped trembling uncontrollably and his palish skin got back to its natural colors. The internal, violent storm of anxiety was slowly leaving him behind and made him let to examine the situation, which he was in, better. He did not feel like talking with the others as long as that was not necessary. Ideally he would feel relieved if he could just open the front door and leave. Why could not he do that just now? That was what he thought of but then Vergil remembered that the loudest part of this hellish birthday party was sadly for him centered near the front door he could escape from.

But why did he fear approaching them? They were just a bunch of girls dancing to the very loud, catchy tunes. This should not be a challenge at all… yet it seemed to be. Without Yamato in his hands he had to simply give up and wait until all of this was over.

A sudden memory occurred in his mind. He remembered at that moment that because of his panic fear in such situations his parents always had to take that into account, while organizing any family events or vaction trips. The very little Dante loved to poke fun at him just for that. Not all social situations were that scary. As long as he was aware he was talking to total freaks or people he knew closely he simply did not care. But sane, stranger humans… They posed a challenge for him since always but after so many years he almost forgot about it. Somehow this kind of quirk attracted attention of someone, who was the only person in his life he had very deep, intense feelings for. He had hated her at first for bothering him and confronting him about it but later… it had turned out to be the opposite.

As he was standing still one of the dancing girls tugged his sleeve in a direction of the rest of girls. He kept resisting but the girl seemed not to give up at all and even more girls started joing her to the point when he worried his cloak would either end up torn off or they would just forcingly took it off from him. Their pushy behavior made him end up in the hellish circle of violently dancing girls, who also made everything to encourage him to dance together. Sometimes they forced the moves from him by dragging his sleeves as if he was a puppet.

Vergil would surely question their sanity until he noticed a bunch of empty bottles rolling around the floor. Alcoholisation was very strong in that place. Even the smell could reveal that. He did everything he could to leave that trap without hurting anyone. If his morality did not hold him back he would easily use his full strength to throw these girls to the walls, what would result in their major injures and possible death. All he could do was to simply sacrifice his magnificent, black coat to free himself and run blindly to the spot, in which he could think of his escape plan more.

He rushed as he planned and the coat fell down just behind him to the girls’ surprise. The window in the kitchen was the key, he thought. His quick move of a fist broke the window easily and through that he jumped from and successfully escaped that hell. Without his coat but at least free.

Meanwhile, Dante was sitting bored in his shop and observing the world through the distantly placed windows. It was raining, he realized. Surely a very encouraging atmosphere to take a good nap. He was about to do that especially when Dante assumed no one would show up in his shop anyway on such weather on late evening. A couch seemed like the best option to sleep on but resting on a desk was something he was used to do. Nothing was better than just to lay your head on your stretched out arms all over the desk and then just slowly fade into that beautiful dream world. His tired eyes slowly closed and attempted to finally rest as he desired so much.

A crash of violently opened door made him almost jump out from his desk and it seemed apparent the door did not survive the way they were treated. The figure standing on the door-frame had a familiar face but that clothing and hair did not seem to match the image Dante remembered. The angrily sounding yell “Dante!” was how he identified the man as Vergil but his wet fallen down hair, which were close to covering his eyes, and a lack of his coat made it hard to recognize him as quickly as normally. Somehow that was the most threatening looking Vergil he had ever seen. And his irate expression emphasized with his angry stare under his hair could scare many people.

Dante was almost certain his brother would beat him up and he was not prepared to defend himself. But it turned out Vergil only kept his angry stare and walked in to get his katana back and pick up the weapon he was supposed to take in exchange. Dante was still certain his older brother would give him a surprise stab into his chest but he was wrong once again. Seeing Vergil leaving in passive-aggressive silence he wanted to say something but until his already opened mouth articulated the first syllable Vergil growled “Don’t.” knowing what the question was meant to be. His talent of throwing Summoned Swords at pure will was purposely used in a way to miss Dante’s head by an inch and that way the phantom sword stabbed a wall behind him. An obvious signal that asking anything more would end up with being really hurt. Still that was surprisingly nice of Vergil not to start with violence from the start but reserving it for later.

Dante was fortunate he did not have to invest his money – if he still had them at all – in buying Vergil a new coat. His old friend Patty was good enough to bring it to his shop and luckily for him the only thing it needed was washing due to its smell taken from the very drunk girls. But the destroyed door… sadly that would cost him a lot. Apparently his efforts put in saving money seemed to have as poor effects as always. Was there a way he would ever put an end to that issue finally?

The financial situation was surely a little better than before since Dante managed to pay some bills. The toilets could be flushed and the light was still on. Of course he was a little late with paying some rent but he was probably at his best when it comes to paying. But smart Dante thought that was a good idea to hire Vergil to take the money from the clients and pay him twice in some of his weapons. And the smartest ideas of all – infuriate Vergil by tricking him into a place he would not have enjoyed. That added another high cost on his long expenses list. At least, there was a hope Vergil managed to get enough of cash to pay some of these.

His older brother seemed like the one, who would not have issues with financial management. That was why Dante put so much trust into him… what itself was a very bizarre concept. Trusting Vergil? Well, at least his shop was the only place Vergil could not really plot another plan in purpose of gaining more power – at least hopefully. His brother was a ruthless man, none of the most heart-wrenching stories would breal him and with his cold, unmoved expression he would still insisted on getting paid. One of the rare advantages Vergil had over his younger brother indeed but at least Dante was not the one, whose actions would lead to havoc – just to stinky toilets at worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe Vergil still acted quite nice in comparison to what he was really capable of in the past! I think it is nice to have a chapter like this before the one I prepared next. There are going to be some feels...


	8. Insistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day when all of the Sparda's kin decided to confront Vergil about their concerns regarding his observed odd behavior. How will this go?

A few days later Dante had decided to pay Vergil a visit, while he was supposed to collect the money from his clients as promised. He walked in all in smiles, as if he tried to hold back his laugh. What was so amusing for him? There was something he needed to point out to his older brother. Vergil, who scoffed his soft heart for his own clients and losing money in the process, what contributed to Dante’s debt. His older brother could not hide for much longer that even he himself bent to his own sentiments even if they were quite different than Dante’s.

“Hey, Vergil. How is it going?” his younger brother stood just before him, while leaning his hands on his tights, which formed a confident looking posture. Indeed he felt as if he won a challenge even if there had never been any set.

Seeing Dante’s big smile Vergil assumed why he was really there but he attempted to pretend as if he did not see that coming.

“All fine as it should be.” He responded calmly.

His younger brother looked around the shop spotting how some places, which were clearly arranged by Vergil himself. A bunch of books put on his desk and one of them opened – apparently that was what Vergil had been occupied by not so long time ago. There was also an attempt at masking Dante’s so-called “filthy” posters with plastered fragments taken from poetry books.

Even if many months had passed Dante could not still get used to that there was something else attracting Vergil’s interest than power. Shockingly none of these poems touched the topic of power and strength at all! So many years spent on searching power just to read some gibberish about… how did he call it whenever he had to correct Dante? Decadence? Whatever just some depressing shit, Dante thought.

“’All fine as it should be’ you say?” he snorted “I noticed some numbers missing. As if there was at least a few people you let just go. What is it, Vergil? Did some pesky feelings get in you way? Huh?”

“No. Perhaps you have to learn how to count.” Vergil deflected while being fully aware that indeed he remitted payment for a few people. Not many of them, just a few.

“I know how to count. I’ve counted many times. You can’t hide it, Vergil. Apparently refusing money is in our blood, right?” Dante laughed out loud.

“I do not refuse money.” Vergil spoke firmly.

“What is it then?”

“Some of the clients are… specific. But there is not many of them. Barely one percent of all.” Vergil attempted to find some excuses.

“I thought you wouldn’t bend for anyone. Everyone had to pay no matter what, isn’t it what you told me?”

Dante’s question was only faced with a very telling silence this time.

“So what happened? Did you find you have a heart after all these years finally?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is! This is why I hired you and now you’re failing me, Vergil!” Dante snorted.

“I can always withdraw from our agreement and let you work alone as before.” His older brother spoke coldly.

“Oh, it’s fine!” Dante responded while sounding somewhat annoyed but still playful “Lemme guess, did your Temen Ni Gru victims pay you a visit?”

That was enough and getting too close to touching personal subject Vergil was entitled to keep to himself. While Dante’s assumption was perfectly correct but the correct guess was not the only thing infuriating Vergil. That was a moment he had to cut off quickly until this conversation moved into the wrong direction and started touching his very personal space. He was fully aware of his past actions as wrong and irreversible but speaking of them that way openly was not something he felt ready to do at that moment. No one will force him to do that but him when he feels ready.

Before his younger brother decided to open his mouth and sneeringly comment on his very telling astonishment, Vergil instinctively made a use of his Summoned Swords and threw one – but in a way it only missed Dante’s head by an inch. Its speed only moved his hair and it was enough to indicate not to mess with him any more. To mark the threatening nature of this sign more Vergil also growled “Get out!”.

Surely some buttons should not be pushed but that was almost natural for brothers to mess with each other or poke fun at themselves. Dante deliberately mentioned what was uncomfortable for his brother. Did he do that just because he took a weird pleasure from it? His actions were supposed to force his brother to think and not to dodge such problematic topics. Dante’s intention was not to push him to share with his own thoughts out loud. That was just a kick to attract Vergil’s attention to what he kept denying or disregarding. These thoughts had to be analyzed, viewed from different perspectives and then accepted instead of being pushed to the very edge of his own consciousness, in which they would only rot. Rotting corpses bring nothing more but a deadly plague. Dante knew that from his own experiences.

Speaking of being confronted there was someone else who could not hesitate giving poor Vergil a break. This time that came from his own, concerned son. The topic was brought back naturally by the situation they ended up in – another completed mission they were about to leave. But before they did Vergil’s gaze kept moving around some of the corpses laying around the alley. They went through such places many times. After so many of them, even someone, who had never seen such horrible view before, should be used to it and just omit that sight as something as normal as grass growing. Nero felt that was finally the right moment to confront his own father just like Kyrie suggested him to do.

“What are you looking at?” Nero started.

“There can be still demons hidden. It’s always good to be careful.” Vergil realized he was caught but he felt confident, he could easily excuse his behavior without sounding fake or suspicious. That explained his unsurprised and calm voice as if he really meant what he had spoken.

“I don’t buy this bullshit. I know what I see. You’re watching these bodies around.” His son could not be fooled that easily. Still Vergil was certain that situation could be excused with many made-up but reasonable sounding reasons.

“There are kinds of demons, which can make a great use from a dead human body. They possess it and use it as their own. They are rare but it’s always good to be careful, Nero. Even if they are rare, they are incredibly dangerous.” Vergil responded in strong faith his excuse convinced his son. He was not wrong seeing Nero’s reaction.

“Oh, so that’s it then. I thought… Nevermind.”

Vergil suspected what his son meant to suggest but naturally that was a topic, which should never be brought up. Better to have a nice calm walk than to start an unnecessary and toxic conversation. Nero did not trust him. He realized that and painfully accepted he wasted his only chance two decades ago.

Nero deep down did not feel satisfied with the explanation he was provided. It sounded very believable and reasonable from an objective point of view. The reasons supporting that were in Vergil’s manner and did not seem to be made up. But his gut feelings were telling him that was not the truth. He could not tell why and it was eating him on the way home.

While all of them were in a van Nero kept making a few quick glances at his father’s face in hopes he could find an actual answer there. Any hint or clue what he was actually hiding. But his eyes were only fixed on a book he was holding and not distracted by anything around the moving van. Fully focused on the words feeding his mind.

Someone would wonder if exposing Vergil was even possible? If it was who could do that? Perhaps no one. Or all what is needed is just the right approach. Something what would caught him off guard. Something what would be indeed his weakness. Something what could not be just rudely belittled or disregarded.

After the day of his relatives rudely invanding his privacy and pushing him to open up about them, he ended up back at Nero’s apartament. Believing to have some peace for once, Vergil was ready to spend his free time on reading. On this time his son was being occupied by upgrading his Devil Breakers with Nico in a garage. It seemed apparent no one would bother him with any more questions… But sadly for him his expectations turned out to be entirely wrong. Vergil never considered Kyrie to show up and straight up tell him “We need to talk, Vergil”. He would swear he rolled his eyes in annoyance at that moment but could not refuse to such a woman.

They sat down, where a table set a distance between them.

“We need to talk because… Nero is just worried about you, Vergil.” She started.

“Huh… I thought all I told him was enough.” He spoke annoyed.

“You don’t say the truth. He feels it. I feel it.”

“It’s not my issue my reasons don’t feel honest enough for you.”

The infuriation painting on his face seemed reasonable if it was considered that his true answers were wrongly taken as false and he was annoyingly pushed to say something what would please Nero and Kyrie. But his daughter-in-law could see he was not annoyed by this. He seemed defensive. As if he wanted to protected and hide something from them indeed. But still she was not certain what that was he did not want to speak about. There must be something said to provoke a reaction from his to tell.

“Perhaps Nero did not tell me all the details you said. So why do you pay attention to these people so much?” she asked.

Vergil proceeded to pull off the same explanation as he had done earlier with Nero. His dictions and tone did not show uncertainity with the words he spoke what would raise a suspicion. But his face disclosed very subtle clues the reasons were divergent from that. His confidence came from a strong faith in his lie sounding believable, not because the words coming from his mouth were indeed true. But his eyes uncovered something what resembled guilt and helplessness – that detail did not go unnoticed by Kyrie.

Her experience with working with children made her more sensitive to any signs given by them. Even if children tend to be more straightforward with their feelings, and bad at lying but picking up even the smallest clues was crucial for her. Sometimes the most subtle of facial expressions predicted incoming trouble. This ability was necessary with their future adoptive parents as well. None of them would ever admit to their issues and questionable intentions – that was why reading their faces was so important to find it and then react properly.

This experience worked greatly on Vergil. His work at self-control was very impressive but never wiped out these little signs unwillingly made by his body language. It seemed apparent to her that Vergil felt his self-control recently failed him and everything he tried to keep in check escaped to his infuriation. As if an unexplainable, mysterious force was slowly destroying that wall built for years.

She decided to catch him off guard with her provocative comment.

“You feel guilty seeing them. Is that what you mean?”

He was astonished by such an unexpected assumption but he did not let that to admit it.

“I never cared for them. What do you try to imply?” Vergil sneered to hide this was indeed true regarding that topic.

“As V, you wanted to beg Dante for help to fix your mistakes. You really do want to fix what you’ve done. But you don’t know how to do it, how to even start, do you?” she continued. “We’re all ready to help you, Vergil.”

This foolish woman spoke nonsense, he thought. He did not care. This wise woman spoke the truth, he thought as well. He really wished to know how to fix his own mess. Ugh, that was why he hated himself for the moment, in which he had thought splitting himself with Yamato was a great idea. What to say? What to reply?

“My own issues shouldn’t concern you. Incredibly disgusting to be so nosy. To spread such rumors. It is insanely rude. I never cared about your own dilemmas so I expected the same in return.” He replied coldly. “You’re just a gross woman sticking her nose, where she shouldn’t.”

That was not meant to be so harsh, was it? But it happened and to that Kyrie only gasped shocked at the insult. The words he spat were anger inducted and sadly he let it be in charge of his last response. His younger self would feel pleased at shutting up people that way without regarding their own feelings and disregarding their intention of helping him. Watching them having meltdowns used to make him feel very powerful. His older self did not find that attitude this desirable and realized it caused him almost the opposite feeling. This woman’s expression really moved him and made him feel as a lesser being. Which was so odd to him to experience… But apologizing seemed like something what made him scream inside. He would never bend like this to anyone.

Almost spoken under a breath “I’m sorry” slipped through his mouth and quickly moved to his own room to avoid that awkward situation. This rude behavior of Vergil left Kyrie close to tears. Showing contempt to her when she opened up to helping her father-in-law so much hurt her horribly. She stayed there in the kitchen alone with cheeks wet from the tears until suddenly Nero showed up. At first he did not assume Kyrie was left so upset and before he processed anything he began to start a chit-chat. But then the realization hit him.

He rushed to her and wraped his arms around her asking what had happened and if she had been okay. She cried more when she begged Nero not to do anything to Vergil even if he was responsible for it. But young devil hunter could not stop himself from it. His father could not get away from this, from hurting Kyrie this way. From showing disregard to him once again. Because treating his lover like this meant showing disrespect to Nero as well. There was a price to pay for Vergil’s actions, he thought.

“Did no one teach you manners, you asshole? You’re going to pay for this!” Nero screamed and grabbed his sword Red Queen.

“Please not here!” Kyrie exclaimed.

She was correct. This should be resolved outside. Despite the rain outside, which would normally discourage from taking any activities there, Nero felt this insult could not be ignored. The rain was just a small inconvenience. That bastard his father was had to be punished. He had to prove his worth once again. No matter who would end up dying. This was a matter of honor.

“Why did you do that? Why did you treat Kyrie this way, you fucking asshole?!” Nero yelled angrily.

“I apologized…” Vergil said.

“It doesn’t matter! We gave you everything you need! And all you do is lying! Disregarding us! You hate anything human, why are you still here?! Why can’t you just go back where you come from, you fucking piece of shit?!”

“Calm down, Nero.”

“How?! How do you expect that?! You lie to me all the time and never brought yourself up to even apologize for anything! The arm, you never said ‘sorry’ at all!”

“You know exactly I never meant it.” Vergil replied.

“Translation: I never gave a shit even now! I spent weeks in a hospital fighting for life after this! And then I luckily happened to have it grow back! But what if it didn’t?! You’d still say you never meant it?”

“If I knew from the beginning…” but then Nero interrupted him.

“If you fucking cared. If you weren’t a fucking asshole. Why can’t you apologize? Even now?! We’re going to fight right here. For death and life.” Nero grabbed Red Queen once again showing his readiness for the battle.

“I refuse. Just calm down, Nero.”

“I won’t. You will never belittle me like this ever again!” and suddenly Nero charged an attack at him. Vergil only dodged that and refused to release his sword from the sheath.

“Listen to me. I felt guilty of this from the first day I met you as V. Even if I was unaware of our blood relation.” Vergil spoke.

“Then why the fuck you never said anything about it?!” Nero launched another strike successfully dodged by Vergil.

“It’s not a talk for a fight. That’s why I insist you to calm down. Stop it, Nero.”

“You will only talk if threatened. Once I stop you’ll keep lying and avoiding the topic once again! Just speak right now!”

“What do you want to hear first?”

“Better yet what are you supposed to fucking say, you asshole?!” Nero’s strike ended up with stabbing Vergil through his chest. Perhaps for a human that would be a certain death but a sword in his chest was just a mere scratch for a hybrid like him. Just exhausting to heal from.

“I’m sorry for everything.” Vergil spoke with the pain coming from the pierced chest and coughing some blood.

Did he feel finally satisfied, Nero asked himself. He always wanted to hear that but its satisfying effect was stripped off by a fact he literally had to stab his own father to force him to do that. This apology was even worse than Vergil just refusing to say anything at all. It was not remorse inducted apology – the honest one, which he would feel relieved and pleased to hear. That was an apology spat just to make him stop this dramatic fight. Vergil did not care. He wanted some peace without considering anything he had done. _Shit happened, why are you bothering me with this? Is that something I should care about? My son? Who cares about it?_ That is how Nero imagined his father to think.

He took the sword from Vergil’s chest. His father fell down to his knees out of exhaustion. Breathed heavily in and out, sometimes coughing some blood. His white hair were all messy and fell down, covering his eyes that way.

While Nero could feel tears building up in his eyes upon the view of this man. At this point it did not matter to him who would see his breakdown even if having Kyrie on his side comforting him was something he wished to have the most. He could not bottle that up all forever. He was done being disregared, belittled and seen as somebody lesser to anyone. He was not worthy to be raised by his biological parents. He was not worthy of being acknowledged by his own father currently kneeling just before him. _All Vergil saw in him was just a stupid, human, bratty child, didn’t he?_ Perhaps he was right. He had never managed to save Credo. He had got himself in trouble, which would have costed him losing Kyrie. Even Dante did not fully trust in his power. _He needed… more power. **More power.**_

The pain coming from a wound made with a launched strike weakened Vergil to the point he stayed in a hunched position. His hands were touching the hole made from a stab as if he believed it could allievate the pain. His demonic regeneration worked but it needed both time and his energy. And that was indeed energy draining him. The wound began slowly fade, so was the chest ache and blood streaming from it. A sound of somebody withholding sobs started to came to Vergil’s ears. And that was when he rose his head and slowly stood up to see Nero completely broken.

The rain stopped some time ago but his cheeks were wet from the tears, which he tried to hold back. Nero kept wiping them vainly and breathed heavily waiting until he could finally calm down. But instead of his cheeks drying he felt them nearly drowning. The sorrow filling his heart was killing him. He would swear the tears coming from his eyes were unnaturally big. All running down his cheeks and falling from his chin, the droplets impersonating the rain. He felt too weak to go anywere and just stood there still. Occasionally leaning his hand on his own chin in attempts to keep himself together from the left barely stable pieces.

At this point Vergil felt his heart cracking. He was responsible for all of that. All as meaning from the beginning to that moment. He was the one who created Nero’s abandonment issues. Something he himself suffered from regarding his own mother. Even if he began to understand she never really left him as he believed before. But for Nero it could not be explainable on the other way. He left him even if without awareness of his own son’s existence.

Vergil approached him closer. Nero’s teary eyes looked at father’s but instead of having anger inflicted in him once again he only turned his head to avoid looking at him. Suddenly he felt a hand touching his upper back. Then Vergil’s unusually soft and remorseful voice sounded:

“I’m really sorry for everything.”

Nero looked at him once again astonished. This time it felt Vergil really meant it.

“There are moments when I often wish of getting back in time just to fix all of it and start from the completely new page.” His father spoke further “But admitting of all of that is a real challenge for me. There is plenty of them.”

The remaining tears were wiped out from Nero’s cheeks this time not entirely pointlessly. Finally he could see _that_. That guilt and shame on his father’s face even if still subtly masked with his cold expression.

“I cannot fix that. I realize that. None of that can be fixed. I know it. But trust me. I know what I’ve done. And I regret it.” Vergil proceeded to speak.

Speaking of all the crimes was indeed tough. There was no way to explain them the other way round. These were not morally gray actions, which could be possibly excused in a way, whose harm was reduced from taking a certain perspective. No. All of his actions costed thousands of innocent lives just to satisfy his lust for power. Power, which in the end, meant nothing to him. It was just an empty concept, which he believed to fix his all own issues.

Admitting that out loud was an incredibly hard thing to do. Especially for someone, who wanted keep an image of a rational, smart person – better than his foolish brother. It all ruined that picture completely – it was him who committed to such actions. An even worse thing for him to admit was no one but him was at the fault for his torment under Mundus actions.

This pained him everyday and was growing stronger everyday. Since that certain moment – that one odd dream, which felt like a fever dream more. From that moment he felt the feelings, which he had once repressed, leaking out uncontrollably. Escaping the safety cage he had imprisoned them in once. It had all started with just a simple wonder, triggered by the laying bodies of dead humans. A moment to think of how actions of nineteen year old self affected the humanity that way. But then that was not that moment, which evoked such guilt and shame in him. It came suddenly, surprising him one day. Since then it was growing stronger and stronger everyday making him feel as if he was losing control on himself. And he hated it, very much. He hated to get his conscience back.

Nero realized it now. As his anger faded he could see that better. The cold demeanor of his father – that was not indifference. It was just a wall he could hide behind it. A barrier, which could keep everything he carried in check. It was all a barrier, which all his guilt and shame lived behind controlled carefully. But little did they all know that even the walls of that “cage” began to break as they could not handle the growing strength of it. Threatening that way to be released uncontrollably on a certain breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Nero.


	9. A New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An odd devil hunter from the southern parts of the country paid a visit in Devil May Cry shop with an interesting mission to take for the Sparda's trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I had to invent an OC to push the story a bit. Don't worry, he is gonna be a minor character anyway.

On the other day a stranger showed up in the office of Dante’s Devil May Cry. The weird fellow could not leave any different impression of him than pure suspicion of his true intentions because of the mask he wore and specific clothing, which seemed to be hand-made. Despite the mask hiding his face, a long, curly, ginger hair were fallen all over his covered face. His confident steps and posture clearly indicated he had a serious deal to speak about. This client was lucky enough to face not just one but actually two devil hunters on that day.

Both Dante and Vergil were very vary of a stranger. His whole image was rightfully not worth trusting but before they decided to prepare themselves for an anticipated attack they waited until this masked man began to speak. One of the legendary devil hunters started their conversation with a simple question regarding the stranger’s identity and a name.

„I can’t reveal my real name due to my own profession. I believe that’s actually obvious for you two since we work under the same conditions.” A stranger responded.

„At least give us your fake name. A name you go after in your job. Whatever. Just to know how to refer to you in the future. Unless you want to be called a „Stranger Man”” Dante spoke, while expressing a little of annoyance.

The stranger made a quick pause as if he needed a minute to make up an actual name. Apparently „Stranger Man” proposed by Dante was a clearly denied idea.

„Call me Otto from now.” The masked man replied.

„Okay, Otto. What’s the deal you’re coming with?” the legendary devil hunter said, while carefully watching that weird fellow, who began to pace around his office as if it would help him to concentrate.

„I’m hunting down demons on the Southern parts of this country. I’m not coming to ask for your help with these demons. I need your help with something… strange perhaps.” Otto began to speak, while stressing his accent on „strange” specifically.

Dante’s eyebrow rose, what disclosed his instant curiosity with the subject. Vergil’s face was not as much expressive but what stranger was saying attracted his attention as well.

„Strange you say? What’s that exactly?” Dante proceed to ask.

„There are weird, uncommon places in which demons of different kind seem to spawn from there.” Otto continued his description.

„Portals.” Dante and Vergil spoke the exact same idea at once. After they realized that they looked at each other slightly confused, what later turned into an amusement at the example of their twin shared brain.

„Yes, probably. But portals don’t open this often and in such places. Like churches for example. I know your achievements, Dante. That’s why I came here for your help.” Otto said.

„Well… I accept the offer. At least that’ll be something different from killing ordinary demons all day.” Dante responded while stretching his arms indicating his readiness for the set task.

„I guess you need some time to prepare for this trip?” Otto asked.

„Surely! And we’ll need some help. I’ll call when we’ll be ready.”

„I’ll wait nearby.” Afterwards the stranger left the office.

The help Dante needed was specifically Nero’s. Three devil hunters would be a better and safer idea than just one. Even if the legendary devil hunter did not have any serious threats awaiting for him but knowing that their task was not just simple demons eradication but a problem to solve, three working brains would help out with solving that faster than just barely active one. Dante surely was not that good at puzzles. The reason for that was not his own intellect but more of his own impatience.

The preparation ended with taken collection of weapons, which were hoped to be useful, and also with some supplies prepared. While Nero was already introduced to the plan ahead of them similarly to Dante he found that exciting their routine of killing demons would be broken by a mystery to solve.

Three devil hunters gathered inside the office’s building, while waiting for a stranger to come back and then navigate them to the places of strange phenomenons. Shortly after Dante’s call, Otto showed up and expected them to invite him to their vehicle, in which they would spend several hours until they would arrive on the place of destination. A trip in Nico’s van would be absolutely possible but these devil hunters had a different ways of getting to the place they want without losing so much time. That kind of power could not be used too often that was why choosing the right moment for its use had to be done carefully.

Dante deliberately asked everyone to stand very close to each other in a circle including a stranger. Vergil removed Yamato from its sheath what caught Otto off guard and made him question for a short while devil hunters’ intentions.

„What are you doing?” A masked man’s voice expressed quite of a worry with mentioned devil hunter’s movement.

„That’s how we’ll go. Stay close.” Vergil responded calmly. He turned around in a way everyone behind him could see his back only.

The demon hunter made a quick moves of Yamato on the air, which opened a portal before them instantly. It looked like a glowy breach levitating on an empy space. This view definitely did not encourage to enter such a strange-looking physical effect from a perspective of someone, who was unfamiliar with its real purpose. Surely, Otto was the one, who was highly skeptical of getting into that thing.

„Now everyone stay close to each other and enter the portal. I’ll go as the last one.” Vergil commanded.

All devil hunters, one by one, entered that strange breach and suddenly ended up on the foreign looking street. Perhaps that was the town they were supposed to end up in. Otto took a few steps farther from the tight group and looked around the buildings in purpose of recognizing that place. This uncommon way of travelling surely made him not only confused but nauseous as well. Fortunately this kind of feeling faded away rather fast and the view he was watching started to uncover familiar spots to him. Shortly after he glanced at the gathered men and nodded in confirmation they arrived at the correct place.

Upon seeing that Dante adopted his relaxed position, in which he crossed his arms and took a look around the small street, they ended up in. Nothing seemed infected by the demons. Everything was safe and sound at that moment. This observation made him comment on that.

„Alright. So where is that strange place you mentioned… Otto?” Dante broke that silence caused by the men examining the foreign area.

„It’s nearby. In the church. Go after me.” Otto responded calmly and moved towards another alley, which would direct them to the passage, from which they would spot the mentioned shrine.

The most expected condition of a church would be a swarm of demons guarding it but surprisingly this shrine seemed to be empty and untouched. This faced fact made Nero wonder if their whole trip was not just a stranger’s idiotic prank but before he let out his anger burst he still decided to stay quiet. Especially when he noticed Dante taking a voice about it.

„So this is it?” Dante asked slightly disappointed.

„Yes and I know it’s not how you expected it.” Otto replied.

„You said demons spawn here… And I can’t feel and see any demonic presence out there. Is there something you forgot to say, weirdo?” Dante spoke.

„The thing is these places change. One day demons come from an abandoned house and then the other day they spawn from a church. Very strange.” Otto commented.

„If you say so…”

„I believe it’s worth investigating what’s inside.” Vergil suggested.

„Right. If something what caused that it’s still there then it’s worth finding.” Dante caught up Vergil’s pace. Upon noticing that so did Nero. That’s how devil hunters created a group all over again.

Barricade tapes around the church were telling that something had indeed happened inside. Even if it was not guarded by anyone but the mere fact how noticebale it was that the most of people kept a distance from the church was rather very telling. From the perspective of the church’s main hall nothing distinctive or strange could be seen. That was a generic looking view from the inside of a gothic church. Maybe with an exception of ruined benches and paintings of the saints, what was a certain proof of inhuman creatures infesting that place before.

Devil hunters dispersed to take a better look on the suspicious place. Nero looked around the left wing of a church, Vergil took the right wing to investigate and then Dante chose the very back of it. The lucky devil hunter, who discovered something worth checking, was the older brother of the legendary demon hunter. What he found were certain symbols painted on the ground. Vergil could not recall what they really were, his suspicion only leaded him to believe they were a part of a ritual.

He called the rest of the group to see that themselves. Similarly to Vergil they did not recognize the symbols with exception of Otto. A slight concern uncovered on his face, what could not be seen by the others because of the mask he wore, as he was observing the painted signs on the floor.

„What’s that?” Nero began to speak.

„Sadly I know what it is…” Otto started slowly.

„It looks like a ritual.” Vergil added.

„Yes, it is a ritual. You’re correct.” Otto responded and confirmed Vergil’s theory.

„Can you just say what this shit is before we all turn old? Who is behind it?” Nero expressed a bit of impatience.

„I’m certain that’s a cult of Light. We haven’t heard of them for a long while.” Otto commented while showing worry.

„Lemme guess, another ancient cult no one heard about for like thousand years and suddenly came back threatening the world and shit?” Nero scoffed.

Dante could not help snorting silently at Nero’s remarks but then he asked the masked man to continue his speech.

„Actually they were a very known group five decades ago. After a few demon massacres here we believed that what they worshipped wipped them out itself but it turns out they are still very fine…. And apparently they have another plan they try to put into action.” Otto continued.

„What is the „Light” they worship. A demon’s name?” Vergil asked.

„Light is only the name of a concept they worship. They believe the light of knowledge the humanity once got as a gift was stolen from them and they do everything to get it back.” Otto replied.

„Wonderful. I like how the worst of the freaks have weirdly enlightened ideas fueling their craziness.” Dante responded snarkily to the provided description „Still, why these signs? Rituals?”

„I believe that’s how they open portals to hell. That’s what explain the mysterious spawn of demons in such places.” Otto added.

„I really wonder what mental gymnastics can explain the connection between getting back this so called knowledge and opening portals to hell then.” Dante snored.

„To understand this concept I believe I have to start from the beginning. The cult of Light believes in the alternative story of Sparda’s awakening to justice. They start from the conclusion that the winners write the history in the way it is. This known story is supposed to be biased against Mundus from their point of view.” The masked man began to speak.

The last sentence clearly rose an infuriation among devil hunters and Nero could not help himself interrupting Otto to express that.

„Really?” but as soon he spoke Vergil tried to silence him through shushing.

„In this alternative interpretation Mundus was not an opressor of humans but actually a friend, a savior. Someone who gave them the „light”, the true knowledge hidden from them. But Sparda is described as the one, who hated the fact people had access to it. He felt that knowledge would threaten him, his allies and the other demons. He stole the „light” and successfully defeated Mundus. Cultists believe they are the ones, who know the actual truth and now they do everything to free and help Mundus to get back to his prime and take the stolen „light” and bring to them again.” Otto finished.

„That’s a really incredible example of delusion but still, why the portals? Do they want to get to him directly? Travel to hell? Sounds hilarious to me.” Dante commented.

„I agree with you about that delusion. It gets even worse when you realize that they open these portals just to help Mundus get his strength back by feeding him with humans.” Otto sighed with disgust.

„Killing innocents for an enlightened idea? I think I’ve seen something like this before.” While saying that Dante moved his gaze on Vergil, while his older bother’s expression shown both infuriation and also remorse at the same time. Remorse was something he did not expect to see on his brother’s face at all.

„Whoever does that, must be stopped. But hunting them down will surely be a challenge for all of you.” Otto said.

„I still wonder why us?” Dante asked.

„We know the story of how you were able to stop incoming, strange apocalypses started by maniacs. Temen Ni Gru. Fortuna. Qliphot tree. And now these crazy cultists on service of Mundus.” Otto replied „We’re counting on you.”

„Looks like a nice puzzle ahead of us. But if you heard about them maybe someone out there knows more and we will find them?” Nero spoke.

„They’re surely hidden very well. Even if anyone believes to know were their hideout is, they only know where that was several decades ago.” Otto commented „Not to mention we can’t be sure if they don’t use spells hiding them or blocking a way to their hideout.”

„Wonderful, really.” Dante spoke, while expressing a little of snarkiness.

„Perhaps their past hideouts still possess hints to where they moved in to.” Vergil took a voice.

„If you know where they were in the first place.” The younger brother responded.

“Still it’s worth a try. The only way we can find a clue.” Vergil replied back.

His older brother was right. Searching was a key to find anything what would lead them to their discovery. Even if that meant visiting placed to be once inhabited by the cultists in question and hoping to find any hints left, which would direct them to the right place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mundus' cult is something I wish to see in the future DMC games to be honest.


	10. A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery behind a new mission seemed to be solved exceptionally quickly... Only on the surface.

The devil hunters approached the task exceptionally seriously. It was not another demons’ nest to track down nor an invasion of deadly monsters to stop. Instead that was a human cult to stop. Isn’t it always humans messing around the most? Demons are dangerous but primitive when it comes to spreading destruction. As long as these are the lesser spiecies, their desire for blood is fulfilled with simple, predictable actions. Humans on the other hand… tend to be way more malicious and creative with their own cruelty even against their own kind.

Getting back to the new challenge faced before the devil hunters, their research included various mediums, mostly connected to each other. Knowing that the cult of Light was recognized once, it leaded easily to assumption that there must have been some facts ethernized in the books. That was why Vergil targeted the libraries, especially these in the same town, where cult’s suspicious behavior left their marks in a form of opened portals. Of course, all the old books had were out-of-date facts regarding the cult in question but still that was worth a try to investigate the mentioned places. That was left to do by Nero, Dante, Lady or Trish. Sadly, with poor effects.

The indicated places included caves or abandoned houses. It was natural to assume there must have been any clues or traces left – any documents, papers, drawings, symbols or objects. Yet everything was sterile clean from any of it. But then it was logical to look for any evidences showing there was once a hideout of a cult at all. Yet again, there was nothing there but dead leaves, some rocks and fallen parts of the building. Nothing what could indicate there had been even any humans inhabiting that place before.

Anyone would be close to giving up at this point. Perhaps the cult possessed the knowledge of magic and a use of it. If this assumption is true that means the members of it could easily use the spells, which would hide their hideouts almost perfectly. Even somebody as knowledgeable about it as Vergil was helpless especially when magic and spells were never his main interest to begin with. Only when he had hoped that magic would have provided him a source of power he had desired to the point of obsession, he had studied it until he found out magic was what only humans used.

Magic is just a human way of calling demonic energy. Underground and a human world were in some ways always separate. Yet the strength of demonic energy present in Hell managed to mess around the basic nature of dimensions – normally keeping worlds apparat from each other. An effect left by the higher demons attempting at opening portals on purpose of hunting down the delicious human blood. But now the breaches could open spontaneously and stay for a brief few moments. Enough for demonic energy generated by just mere existence of demons to escape and end up in a world inhabited by humans.

Taking an advantage of said energy was still considered nothing more but a witchcraft in the most circles. Children’s imagination and a naïve hope for humans to be able to be ever combat demons themselves without help of specialized at it devil hunters. And a useful tool for the most obscure of cults.

One day the man, who had once showed up to inform the devil hunters about this challenging, unique task, came with something interesting to show to everyone. What he carried in his hand turned out to be a relict or an artifact. It was a solid of shape of a hexatagon. Some of its parts could be rotated. Otto explained he had found it just under the front door of his own shop as if it was intentionally delivered. This mere fact was astounding to everyone and naturally rose a suspicion if that was related to their research. No one in fact would know they were looking for the cult of Light but who knew what actual skills they possessed.

The object in question seemed to be recognized by Vergil as an artifact used in teleportation. Obviously, it was not as powerful as Yamato when it comes to this ability. Surely it had some limits especially regarding travelling across two worlds. It was once artificially made by humans in assumption such an object would replace traditional transport in the future. But it turned out not to be so profitable and making these would cost even more than a car. Not to mention the high risk of using this artifact especially for longer time. One of its interesting functions was the possibility to set up the artifact to teleport someone to the desired place by the sender. It turned out this object was an indirect invintation by someone. The remaining question though was by who?

Dante in his typically cocky manner could not hesitate checking that out but at the same time he was not so incautious not to ask the others to join him just in case it turned out to be a trap. The people, who decided to stay in the shop were Lady, Trish and Otto. They did not chicken out as Nico would say but someone had to keep Devil May Cry’s shop in check naturally.

The artifact needed a bit of rotation of its parts in a way all of them would click. Then the mechanism would release energy necessary in teleportation. Dante, who acknowledged his older brother’s knowledge, left that to do to Vergil. Indeed that was a wise choice especially when the man in question made only a few smooth moves around the artifact which resulted in sudden but expected interaction between that object and its users. From their perspective the sight turned to be all white for a few brief moments until that intense light faded. Afterwards the devil hunters noticed they ended up somewhere what seemed to be a cave. Unlike the abandoned ones, that one was surely inhabited judging by the lighted up torches placed on the rocky walls of it. The interesting paintings and symbols could be seen on them as well.

It seemed to be apparent where they ended up in. A cave with strange signs on the walls could lead to the only one assumption – the hideout of the cult. Perhaps the very same one they were looking for. If that is true then why would someone give them an answer this easily? Was there a possibility someone really wanted to see them? Maybe the man in question believed the devil hunters would easily die in his trap? The only way to find that out was to investigate the place they were already in.

The cave included many naturally made corridors – quite often narrow as they tend to be – which they had to wade through. That was not uncommon for them to collide with assumed cultists – their clothing could not lead to any different conclusion since it consisted of a cloak and a hood hiding their faces very well. Surprisingly, none of them seemed to care about the intruders, which in fact they were at that situation. All of that was rising suspicion among the demon hunters more and more.

The questions which crowded their minds were suddenly faced with a quite straightforward answer. The clarification provided by a person they finally met on one of the more spacious “rooms” naturally made in a cave. Nothing was unordinary about the person in question from the first sight, instead he wore the very same cloak in the same manner as the other people. It was hard to tell anything about his posture and face masked by the shadow casted by his hood. But unlike the devil hunters the mysterious man seemed to be very aware, who they were and what he actually wanted from them. No word was spoken by the hooded man, instead his gesture clearly pointed out at them to attract their attention.

None of them trusted in man’s intentions but they decided to approach him closer as he wanted just because they were confident no traps would pose a real threat to them. From the nearer perspective it was sure the man towered over the devil hunters. Ordinary humans were rarely this tall especially when the devil hunters themselves were quite tall themselves. This fact surely raised a suspicion regarding the figure standing just before them. All three of them were making quick looks around the place in assumption to spot any “unexpected” traps or hordes of demons attacking them from behind. None of that took place.

Instead this whole theatrical mystery was quickly broken by this tall, questionable human, who decided to reveal himself willingly. The falling down cloak revealed something what was found by both Dante and Vergil as shocking but for different, sometimes overlapping reasons.

On this nearly dramatic scene the man turned out to wear an armour, which was not just an ordinary, man-made armour we all know. The shocked eyes of Dante captured a view, which transferred his mind to that one memory, when he met his own doppelganger, which turned out to be Nelo Angel towering over him. Indeed the man before them wore the exact same armour but not everything fit that description. The revealed face of this person, if put side by side with Vergil’s, would be identical with minor size difference. The icing on this cake of shock was also the voice, which was undistinguishable from Dante’s older brother as well. What kind of ridiculous trick that was?

“You’re here. Just as expected.” The man sounded after his dramatic entrance.

“What the fuck is going on, Dante?” Nero exclaimed, while moving his gaze from Vergil to that stranger over and over.

The twins seemed to act as if they froze and no little commentary was made especially when the man in question interrupted a possible moment for that.

“It’d take you all very long time until you’d find me. I decided to help you with that.” A stranger spoke.

“Whoever you are just say what the hell is this all drama you just pulled off here.” Nero kept screaming impatient for answers for such a bizarre situation they were all put in.

“It’s the place you wanted to find. And I am the guilty one you’re looking for.”

“Are you Vergil’s evil clone?”

A man bursted into laugh. Perhaps Vergil’s clone could not be worse than him if that was a possibility.

“I’m not this man. But I’m sure I’m everything he wished to be. Gilver is the name I was given.”

“You speak nonsense. Are you a demon?” Nero sounded impatient with this bombastic speech.

“Indeed I am. Unlike your weakling father, whose ultimate curse was to be born human.”

“What the hell?” Dante finally spoke.

The confused devil hunters were the best moment to surprise them with an unexpected attack and Gilver made a good use of that to throw Vergil to the rocky walls, with something what seemed to be phantom demonic arms. Just like Nero’s but stronger. Astounded Vergil, whose attention was focused on analyzing the bizarrity of that situation, was indeed an easy target. A man looking just like Nelo Angelo because of the armour was surely his ultimate nightmare he had to face ever again. That was the only way he could be caught off guard in a such foolish manner.

The strength of this punch would make an ordinary human end up with seriously injured bones and a crushed skin tissue. Fortunately for Vegil, after being thrown he “only” fell down moaning from the pain. The instinct reaction of Nero made him run towards Vergil to examine the man’s condition and eventually help him to stand up.

“I can tell you a story. When this human deserted from Mundus’ army he made sure to have a replacement. A replacement better than that man himself. Dante, didn’t you know Mundus can create demons like a god? I am everything what Vergil valued. Everything he always wanted to be but never will be. I know everything he does but no memory holds me back. Isn’t it what you always wanted to achieve with Yamato, Vergil? Pure demon blood and power. All your demonic power you have including the one you gained by consuming the Qliphot fruit is also in my possession. We share the exact same demonic power. But the tumor of your human heritage doesn’t weaken me. And then there is a spell protecting me, which is meant to be broken only by Vergil himself. I cannot die until Vergil manages to kill me – that’s the spell. But Mundus knew very well that you won’t be able to break it.” Gilver explained.

“And what the hell are you doing now? Are you this cult’s leader?” The legendary devil hunter spoke astonished.

“Indeed. So many human are willing to sacrifice their blood and even lives for Mundus. To help him to rebuilt his once destroyed reign over this world.”

“How can they believe in this bullshit?” Dante sounded infuriated and almost ready to throw a strike at Gilver with Devil Sword Dante.

“Humans have incredibly fragile minds to twist in the right way.” Gilver smiled sneeringly and then continued “The other duty I’m ordered to do is to eradicate Sparda’s kin from this world for good. To make sure no one would dare to intervene.”

Afterwards a sword materialized in his hand indicating an unexpected strike to be done.

Vergil attempted to surprise Gilver with an attack launched from behind. His incredible speed indeed sliced his armour but the demon in question almost did not react to it. As if he felt no damage and pain from such a powerful stroke. Then instead, the older twin was immediately faced with another punch of a phantom fist and threw fiercely to the wall. This adrenaline rush activated his Sin Devil Trigger – this power could not be possibly stopped just by a mere Mundus’ minion.

That did not stop the other devil hunters to join him in this barely starting fight. Upon seeing the situation as exceptional all of them activated their inner demonic power expressed in Devil Trigger forms. The phantom swords of Dante’s DSD were directed at Gilver and launched in mass. Several strong and fast strikes were launched in hopes to stun that demon. Nero made a use of his own phantom, demon arms to punch, threw as well as shot a few bullets from Blue Rose, and eventually wounded Gilver with powerful strikes of Red Queen. And then the third devil hunter used his speed talent to possibly surprise that powerful demon with firm strokes of Yamato and spammed Summoned Swords.

But the demon seemed not tired at all, not even damaged. All of the demon hunters would bet they sliced through his arms or stomach many times yet the man was not only not bleeding but there were no marks of scratching either. Perhaps what he said was true? Yet the three devil hunters were still skeptical of this assumption.

It seemed like the whole fight from perspective of Gilver was more of an entertainment than a serious battle for death and life. He was in possession of a sword imitating Yamato and barely put any effort into the launched strokes. As if this situation felt like an annoying tantrum of babies attacking him than a serious battle between him and three devil hunters. When he felt already bored with all this mess he threw all the warriors to the side and spoke before he left by a warped, summoned slot for teleportation.

“I’ll be back for all of you soon.” and then his figure faded as soon as he crossed the unnatural slot in space.

Three of them tried to catch him before he left but surely they were too late. Nero and Dante seemed to be the most infuriated about it that the man escaped. As they were left alone the legendary demon hunter became to express a little of worry.

“What if he isn’t lying? Have you seen him? No scratch after so much slaughter launched at him!”

“I think we should find an exit from that place first.” Vergil cut off Dante’s speech regarding that topic. He felt more interested in leaving that place. Perhaps he was right. That way they would at least find out where that mysterious hideout was placed at that moment. Talking could wait.

That was surprisingly not a challenging task to do. One of the small tunnels, which was crowded the most with the human cultists, was a giveaway there was a place, where people were coming or leaving from. Indeed that was a right assumption. As caves tend to do, they have gaps, in which you can enter them from. Apparently that was a cave placed on the beach. Near the exit waves coming from the sea broke in to the inside. That explained the scent inside the cave, where they ended up first. Seemingly the beach was either private, abandoned or forbidden to visit judging how empty that was during a day. The characteristic sound of a humming street could be heard from the distance. Apparently the beach was actually close to the town and one of its crowded streets. How in hell no one found these groups of cultists suspicious at all? Except there was no one outside to be seen entering the cave… but as soon as they crossed a certain line they appeared there out of blue. Masking spells had to come into play here surely.

Upon examining the beach Dante rushed to the street placed just near it to find out what town they ended up in, what if not the exact same one they suspected. While Vergil and Nero stood there, a father standing farther from his son and observing Dante running on the sand, which was making his movement amusingly clumsy. Nero moved his gaze from the sea behind his back then looked back at the ordinary looking cave. And finally his sight stopped at Vergil and spotted something.

His father’s hands were unnaturally trembling. That was the look he found astounding him but at first Nero blamed that on exhaustion. Perhaps that was a way his old man reacted to it… but the thing was Vergil was not a human, who aged like a human. He was partially a demon, right? If his hands were trembling then not because of a human condition. Nero approached him closer and spoke from behind his back.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Vergil responded while sounding defensively and then began rubbing his hands. Probably he hoped that would stop this weird attack of trembling.

When Nero approached him closer he did not see any differences in Vergil’s expression but his face was unnaturally pale and his gaze disclosed something resembling fear. His eyes moved from one place to another in a rush. He clearly avoided stopping his gaze at Nero. Something was wrong.

“It’s not normal. I can tell.” Nero insisted on Vergil to admit the truth.

“No, it’s actually normal. It will pass soon.” His father spoke confidently. His voice tone did not match his scared eyes, faint face and trembling hands.

That was the first time Nero saw his father like this. Even if that was still the same haughty looking man, who still managed to keep his prideful posture, that evident struggle was new to see on him. An issue eating him alive just before Nero. What was that? What did Vergil hide?

“Do you need anything then?” Nero asked, worried.

“Time and some space. Join Dante. I’ll catch up to you.” Vergil spoke while clenching his hands into fists and relaxing them repetitively.

Nero’s natural instinct always told him not to leave someone in need behind. That was why after taking a few steps farther towards Dante he stopped to look at Vergil and still considered coming back to him and doing anything. But he realized his father had a rather tough personality and insisting on helping would not do anything better for him.

Nero’s selfless need to help in some ways was not left completely disregarded by Vergil. It made him remember about his son’s aid when as V – helpless, dying and terrified - he had been about to be killed by Malphas. Then later he had kept his promise to get him to the top of Qliphot tree. That was some care he was never provided since his childhood – after that all he remembered was running away and fighting. No wonder why his human soul felt the unstoppable urge to admit out loud his deepest desires, while experiencing this exceptional treatment and realizing what was taken away from him by himself.

This strange condition was not anything new for Vergil. The only lacking component of that were flashing visions from his horrible past. The haunting nightmares were gone but apparently the unhealthy habit and reaction sticked to him. It seemed like there was nothing more he could do about it but accept it as something normal. As causal as sneezing, yawning, hunger or thirst. A natural part of his life. Maybe that was his body demanding to see these scary visions all over again. Their disappearance seemed more unnerving for it to handle than their unexpected invasion. Now his fear was nothing else but physiological and lacking its true reason to be triggered… at least from his own perspective. Was not that ridiculous to get ready for unidentified threat for no reason? But what always worked for it was a few deep breaths in and out, rubbing hands and trying to redirect his attention on literally anything.

Finally the all three devil hunters gathered around that one spot of the street just to hear the news delivered by Dante, who did the investigation. They were absolutely right. They ended up in the same town, where they had found the strange symbols painted in a ritual opening portals to hell.

Now the questions attacking their minds were all regarding catching that strange demon called Gilver. It seemed apparent it was him who had a control over their unexpected visits not them. He promised them to come back but then when they should start preparing themselves? There was some time to think about a possible plan and how to interpret Gilver’s words. Why was Vergil considered the one, who would not be able to break the spell? Was that even real? Did he just try to fool all of them? One thing was sure – he was truly a tough piece of a demon to defeat. Their most powerful strikes did not even leave any scratches on him. Perhaps there had to be some truth hidden in his words – the question is how much of it was true?

Everything what was left for them was to be ready for Gilver’s next visit and try to solve a puzzle provided by him. Maybe the spell he talked about should not be interpreted literally. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, yeah I basically recycled Gilver. He is not technically Gilver from the DMC1 novel. I have heard many theories regarding Gilver since his existence as Vergil didn't seem to make that much sense. I remember reading a few comments pointing out Gilver was given a status of an artificially made demon just like Trish. So I recycled this idea to create... this mix between Nelo Angelo and Vergil. But to be clear Gilver is not Vergil. Not at all. Just like Trish isn't Eva and is her own person.
> 
> Anyway I find it hilarious I could not help ending up with another "Vergil' antagonist. Though from my point of view the true antagonist, which is not really directly present in my fanficion is Mundus after all... You'll see why - but, even now you can probably start to see it.


	11. Devil May Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil showed up in Devil May Cry's shop in intention of discussing a strategy against their new opponent with Dante. This talk resulted in unexpected effects on the older twin brother.

The squeaky noise of a closing door echoed and gentle sounds of taken steps could be heard. A man wearing black coat showed up just before Dante’s desk. The devil hunter in question, as always, had his relaxed position, in which he had his legs put on a desk. His head raised and his eyes immedietaly noticed the familiar figure.

„So you showed up.” Dante spoke relaxed.

„Just like how you asked.” Vergil replied.

Dante put his legs down and slightly stooped over the desk as if he needed a moment to wonder.

„The Gilver guy. Very odd fellow. He looks like a tough guy…” Dante started.

„I wouldn’t take everything he said seriously. Perhaps he believes he’d fool us that way. One person against him gives him chances to survive. Three of them clearly not.” Vergil spoke with a visible confidence in his words.

„But… what if it’s true? What can we do then?” Dante continued, while his voice slightly rose expressing his doubt.

„If it really is I who can defeat him then… I don’t really know but I doubt what he said was real.” Vergil sticked to his disbelief.

„Who knows how good Mundus got at crafting his servants… He’s too scared to fight himself.” Dante persisted in his idea while he snorted at his own snarky comment regarding the once powerful demon.

„Perhaps…” the older brother spoke silently and at that moment his gaze moved on to the floor.

The silence fell on the shop for a short while. Dante seemed to silently work on the plan inside his own mind. It was possible he had actually found a solution and just wondered how that could be possibly implemented. His eyebrows frowned in that concentrated expression. His eyes shifted and moved – stopping at one spot and then suddenly moving to another one. Until his face showed a grimace exhibiting that he was about to say his excellent idea in a moment. His gaze moved back to meet Vergil’s face and instantanously spoke with a big smile on his face before he could read anything on his older brother’s face.

„I know!” but before he decided to continue he had observed something odd.

Hands of the man, who stood before him, were shaking. Even if Vergil made sure to keep his face unchanged, he was unnaturally pale. Skin so faint like on people, who expect a true horror coming for them. The breathing pattern also shifted to be a little faster but on this part he kept a little more control. But the hands were a clear giveaway something was wrong.

„Hey! What’s going on?” Dante asked concerned.

„Nothing to be worried about. It’s been always this way.” Even if Vergil carried signs of fear, the voice, surprisingly, did not uncover that.

„Always?” after he said that Dante moved from the desk and approached Vergil „This is really wrong.”

As Dante tried to get closer, Vergil took a step back to keep the proper distance.

„We can talk about this on a different occassion.” The man in question responded coldly to revert his strong image. Yet, even his body refused to obey him. The sudden rush of weakness consuming his legs betrayed him. Weakness so severe to the point when using his Yamato as a cane was necessary to avoid falling.

„I need to sit. It will pass soon.” He spoke, sounding as if he was trying to catch more air.

He moved quickly but a bit clumsily to the nearest spot, in which he could rest. The black, leather coach was the one. As soon as he sat down he took a deep breath to regain composure. Surely, that was something a little helpful - the strange feeling, causing him to feel so weak and powerless started to fade. At this point the younger brother did not hesitate sitting on the same coach with him, while staying there in a certain distance, which would be respectful to Vergil’s space needs. The older brother needed help regardless if he openly asked for it or not. That did not matter.

„You just can’t bottle this shit up forever.” Dante spoke.

„It’s none of your concerns.” The older brother replied defensively.

„Have you ever wondered why you deal with **it** so badly? Take at least a minute to think about it.” Dante continued.

„I wouldn’t exaggerate it, Dante. Giving **that** even a moment of attention is always destructive.” Vergil continued defending his outlook.

„Because you never gave it the right kind of attention.”

„What’s even your point?” Vergil began to sound annoyed because of how pushy Dante was.

„I insist you to let it go. Leave your stoic mask for a minute. This is what’s really desctructive.”

Upon hearing that Vergil quickly bursted into a loud laugh.

„You are truly a foolish person, brother.”

„This is why it’s „Devil May Cry” after all.” Dante commented.

„I’ve never heard of devils crying. Even some humans never do. But it’s a catchy name so I appreciate it for that.” He spoke camly but a little of sarcasm could be heard in his tone.

„You never met the right kind of people. They’ve always always been the biggest of extremes.” Despite the fact his older brother kept dismissing him Dante did not let that to provoke him and reply to Vergil’s snarky remarks with an attack. Instead he wanted his words to sound caring and concerned.

„Maybe…” the older brother spoke softly.

„I’m just telling you. Give yourself a good cry. Then all of this will be gone.”

The words sounded amusing to Vergil to the point when he could not just reply but snort at them.

„Why the first human language, which is in use when they are too primitive to produce mature, complex words, should be an answer? Why, Dante?”

„Maybe answer yourself why it shouldn’t?” the younger brother replied back. He wanted to provoke Vergil to take a moment to consider what he was constantly dodging and avoiding to give attention to. The provocation turned out to be successful.

„It’s only a human non-verbal expression of their final defeat and loss. A cry for help since they cannot do anything. I’m not such a person in question. As a mature being and a demon partially I can easily use more complex means to deal with any challenges ahead of me.” Vergil spoke while trying to keep the serious almost bombastic tone of his speech. As if he was emulating somebody’s else voice at that moment. This pattern sounded familiar to Dante, who was listening carefully, and that reminded him instantly of somebody else, who certainly still had a strong presence in his older brother’s mind.

„It’s not what you really think, right? Isn’t it **Him**? Is it what **He** told you the whole time? Repeated like a mantra any time you actually really needed that?”

The questions were only answered back with a silence this time. Vergil’s expression of his face stayed unchanged – that was still a stoic, grumpy look. With exception of his gaze moving from Dante’s suddenly. It was not hard to suspect that mentioning his brother’s opressor, perhaps it is more fitting to call him abuser instead, definitely strongly affected him to that day but he made sure not to show that openly.

„Answer that question seriously. No smartass answers. No snorting. No laughing. Pure honesty. Just what you truly believe in deep down. Do you really agree with what you just said?” Dante persisted to make his own brother speak up his mind finally.

Some of the inner voices spoke in Vergil’s mind. One of them insisted to answer positively and embrace that as his real view on that topic. But a completely opposite voice fought back by admitting what was actually true – that he did not agree, that it was inprinted in his mind long time ago. But again the voice, which was for, argued back – even if that was something what he believed not to be true long time ago, did not mean he could not change his mind and kept it as his true idea. The other voice spoke even louder giving the last, most convincing argument that this recent attitude was nothing but a relict of force and abuse. An idea which was never formulated naturally but under an extreme pressure. A wall, which he could hide behind from power, he could not defend himself from. But at that day it was unecessary and causing more harm than good anymore. The answer turned out to be the only one.

„No.” Vergil’s voice sounded after a longer pause he gave himself to wonder as Dante asked him. As soon as he finished this short but straightforward answer he felt something warm on his cheek, what was slowly moving downwards.

From Dante’s perspective that was clear. A tear escaped from his brother’s eye and was slowly running down his cheek. For the legendary devil hunter that was a final confirmation of Vergil’s honesty and the moment he legitimately felt proud of him for admitting the truth. For the man in question that was shocking to let himself act like this. Especially in front of anyone’s presence. Not the sincere answer itself but the unexpected side effect of his moment of honesty.

Vergil’s almost vulnerable or as he would think laughably pitiful expression changed quickly to an angry glare - his eyebrows frowning and lips squeezing. Without adding anything more, he quickly moved from a couch, he had been sitting on, and rushed to the front door with rushed steps without looking back at Dante at any moment while doing that. Then finally his figure disappeared behind the door closing.

That was a brief moment Vergil needed to simply compose himself back to normal after his own trust in self-control failed him at such uncomfortable situation. He stood there calmly trying to silent any emotion left, while looking silently at the street busy with its everyday business. Cars moving, lights changing and people just walking. An oddly calm image to his inner experience of chaos.

At that moment he intensively wondered how that could happen. How he could fail like this in front of Dante. The biggest irony of this image was the devil himself standing just below the neon sign saying „Devil May Cry” and wiping the cheek, which had been suddenly „invanded” by an unexpected visit of a tear leaving his eye. As much Vergil was infuriated at that moment, luckily for him he was unaware of the almost mocking him sign above him.

With the time passing in a spawn of several minutes a weird sensation settled. As if something heavy had dropped from him. What he had found his ultimate failure earlier, currently he felt it helped him more than just dodging his haunting attacks. Perhaps the link between them and rejecting what he needed the most was correct as Dante suggested.

He did not feel like showing up at Dante’s shop again at least for longer time. Acting the way he did embarrassed and infuriated him despite its surprising positive side effects. It felt like being defeated once again and visiting Dante would feel very awkward for Vergil at that moment.

That seemed more necessary to discuss with Nero this time. This unexperienced young boy would at least not invade his personal issues this way. And perhaps that was important to explain him the threats of that mission ahead of them. Luckily, Nero stopped nearby in his van. The decision before Vergil was obvious and at least a perfect excuse for not showing up at Dante’s office for some time.

The van did not park exactly just next to Dante’s shop. Nero insisted to get closer to the center of the town instead. Whatever that meant it simply implied Vergil had a bit of walking ahead of him… or teleporting if he really wanted to. But there was no need for such a rush and observing the life in the town was interesting enough for him to be worth a bit of effort. Some of alleys’ design was impressive and beautiful enough to pass by and just appreciate its architecture.

Vergil found himself noticing beauty in more art mediums than just through words coming from his dusty books. He was not very open it and always appreciated such things in silence, keeping that all to himself. Sometimes he caught himself wondering when he lost this ability… to get pleasure from the beauty. He asked himself how but then the sudden realization hit him every time – because he lost it for his obsession with power. Everything what once mattered to him lost its meaning to such a meaningless concept of power. Why did he lose his mind for such a thing? Why was that still something subtly impressing him and seen as desirable to get more of it if that would never give him anything in reward? When this delusion was born in his mind? No, it was not what Mundus taught him to believe this time.

Suddenly a bunch of men showed up blocking his way on that small alley, which all of them ended up in. There were at least five of them with one obvious leader staying on the front, facing Vergil confidently. It was apparent Vergil was unlucky to encounter some thugs ruining his unplanned sight-seeing tour through the town. Their deal was rather expected.

“I see you got lost, sir?” the assumed leader spoke.

“Of course, not.” Vergil spoke calmly.

A man laughed at devil hunter’s answer.

“You seem to know what’s up. Am I right?” a thug cockily replied.

“I am certain you didn’t initiate this conversation without expecting anything in reward.”

“Then why aren’t you doing what you’re supposed to do now?” a thug seemed getting ready to add fists to his language vocabulary spoken to Vergil.

“People like you do not impress me. You better leave before it gets messy.” Vergil looked in clearly indicated disregard.

“I’ll count to ten and then you’ll give me your very cash worthy coat.” A thug continued.

This situation felt familiar. Vergil ended up in similar trouble once before a few years back. What were the men before him worthy this time? He did not feel like getting into a fight. Hurting all of them felt like an exhausting idea. Telling them just to go away would not normally work, right? Perhaps… But Vergil did not find such an idea entirely idiotic. What was on his mind then?

He brough his face closer to the man standing before him in a way Vergil ended up staring straight into his eyes. That was necessary for the trick he found necessary to pull off.

“Now you’re going to do what I’ll ask you for.” Vergil began to speak while focusing his sight on thug’s already astonished and slightly anxious eyes “You’ll leave that place instant and forget, who you just saw before.”

The suggestion coming from his lips did not feel like just an information passively received through the ears. It was an order impossible to ignore. As if for a moment thug’s mind was possessed by somebody’s else will stronger than his own. Anything he was asked for he would perform – that was how unbreakable the suggestion was. Basically for that brief moment Vergil had a full control over that man’s actions. And from the thug’s perspective he would swear the man’s pupils before him were slightly glowing the white light. Incredible and terrifying to mess with a devil himself.

Vergil suddenly took a step back and observed his trick in action. To his own amusement he could see the big confusion painting on the thug’s face, while doing without hesistation what he was asked to do. The rest of men, who observed this, while unaffected by this spell but terrified enough to escape in a rush. That was pleasing to see such a trick to work, Vergil thought. It was also something entirely new to him. The last time he could possess control over anything were familiars he had used in his combat as his human half. Sadly enough he could not count on it working on the stronger opponents. Tricking Dante to clean up his mess? This is a too strong brain to manipulate with that _power_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another take on this chapter is that Vergil discovered what Axii is XDDDD


	12. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil made it to the van to find it left out by both Nero and Nico focused on their business. The scattered sheets of paper found inside naturally prompted to pick them up and put them in their place. Yet before doing so, reading their content was a stronger temptation than leaving them without taking a look. What did they say and who had written them?

Not so far from that place an earlier mentioned van was parked. As he got in he noticed nobody around. With Nero it was easy to assume he had some affairs keeping him busy and that was why he was not back yet. Nico apparently had her break for a cig, although why so far from the van? She should keep an eye on it from the “smart” people using that perfect opportunity to steal some nice things out of it. Anyways as he was already inside what attracted his attention were some papers laying around the floor.

That was a mess easy to clean up. How lazy of anyone there to just leave that like this without noticing it. Anyways waiting for any of them to come back just to pick them all up was unnecessary. He grabbed all of them – the papers varied in their forms. Some of them looked like teared out pages from notebooks. Vergil believed them to be just some shopping or duty lists. Nothing else nothing more. But to his own astonished it turned out these notes carried something entirely different. A message which he was not supposed to read probably.

_I always wish THAT would never happen. But it did. The kids around call me “filthy”. They don’t want to be around me to avoid sinning or going to hell. They joke that was why The Order took me – to “purify” my soul from it. Am I really just a “sin”? Kids’ stupid sin?_

That was one of the notes’ content he read.

_Whoever my father is or was – I hate him. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be so alone and lost. I only wanted to be protected and loved. But all I got is just being a freak. A “filth”. A filth is always dark. And black is what my name means…_

This is what the other one said.

_I think I’ve never cried like this on my bday before. I just felt so empty and lonely today. I know – I have Credo and Kyrie. But… even if they’re sweet people, how can you not feel so worthless knowing you were abandoned by your own parents? They threw me like a trash. As if I was something less than a human. Sometimes I even doubt I am human. Something about me is strange… And this scares me deeply. I just wish I could hug my mom and dad for once. But that will never happen._

Vergil gasped as he heard somebody getting in the van. He pretended he had not read anything on the papers he held. A person, who surprised him was Nero himself. A subject, who spoke through these little messages he had left on the notes, which Vergil read. His son immediately noticed what Vergil carried and rushed to get them back.

“What are you doing?” Nero asked angrily.

“I was cleaning that up. It seemed like they had to scatter accidentally during your absence.” Vergil replied and acted as if he was clueless about the content of these diary entries. He handed them in without any hesitation. Nero took them frimly, almost tearing them out from his hands.

“Okay…” Nero breathed in and out to calm himself down “Thank you for your help.”

Vergil was glad the situation ended so smoothly. Without arguments or a need for far-fetched excuses. He could go right to the point he wanted to move to with his own son. It regarded the plan of their action since they encountered Gilver for the first time. The unlimited ability to appear when and where he wanted complicated their plans - they were very helpless and could just observe the world around them carefully. No one knew how Gilver would surprise them the next time but surely he promised to come back.

He found it crucial to warn Nero about this.

“We have to talk about Gilver.” Vergil said.

“Yeah? What else to say about him? Do you have any ideas how to get to him?” Nero responded while being busy with putting his papers into his bag.

“Nothing we can do about it for now… But there is something I have to warn you about. Listen carefully, Nero.” His father approached him closer to get an eye contact “We don’t know what Gilver plans to do. Keep an eye on everyone you love dearly. Make sure to hide them if necessary. And obviously in a fight with him just do not hesitate regardless what he said. I think he’s lying.”

Nero listened his father’s message and agreed to it entirely but there was something else what drew his attention the most. His eyes – of course, Vergil tended to be gloomy but that gaze was something different. His sadness coming from it was not just his own self-pity. That was so clear he felt sad about Nero. Despite the need to keep an eye contact his gaze kept escaping his look, avoiding to stop at his for too long. As if he was scared to watch the eyes of someone, who he affected so badly on his early life. A very odd thing to observe on Vergil and that made Nero immediatelly realize he surely had read a few of the notes he had left incautiously. Even his voice tone was so different from what he used to hear. From an uncaring, cold voice he could hear a tone full of guilt – nearly trembling at some points.

That was a tough topic to bring up for Nero. But he did not want to keep him hanging like that. It all needed some explanation and context. His notes were never meant to be read. They did not even reflect the whole truth. It was all anger inducted and due to it very biased to describe everything as negative. At the same time some of it was actually true. His father’s neglect and abandonment had left a mark on his own mind very deeply. Something uneasy to erase and fix just now.

His throat tightened at the thought of beginning the topic but he had to confess it. Vegil had turned around already to pick up a book he had left somewhere on van’s couch. Perhaps that made it easier for Nero to start that way.

“Vergil?” Nero started, while his voice clearly indicated an incoming serious topic to be brought up.

“Yes?” Vergil did not turn completely, still focused on looking for his book but tilted his face to at least meet his son’s face in the corners of his vision.

Nero took a deep breath before saying this “You read these notes, didn’t you?”

His father froze for a moment as if he was caught on a crime. But through Nero’s voice did not come annoyance or anger. It seemed clear he wanted to explain the notes’ context clearer… But surely he doubted anything would soften their true message. The fact his absence did not leave Nero unaffected could not be smoothened over in any ways. Despite that he was still open to hear what his son needed to say so much. He turned to see it better.

“I did.” Vergil replied quietly.

There had been still a little of hope left in Nero before that reply. A hope that his father had not seen any of that and his odd behavior had been a result of something else. But indeed, Vergil was upset only because of them.

“These notes… I mean… Don’t take them too seriously…” Nero spoke anxiously.

“Perhaps…” Vergil continued to speak with his muted voice, which was rather rare to hear from him.

“Like… I always wrote them while I was…” he found it tough to talk about it and his trembling voice indicated that “I was mad sometimes and I wrote it down. Like, I fucked up something and just wrote some shit down.”

Vergil listened but did not reply.

“And… then…” Nero’s voice uncontrollably cracked what made him wait for a while to continue “I felt so… alone. Like… there were just days like that… And I just… needed to. I mean… you were a reason but… not the only one…”

“I was the reason.” suddenly Vergil spoke in a stronger sounding voice “I dedicated myself to revenge and hatred. I never considered anyone else but myself in my life. And your life is a result of it. And it’s absolutely unforgivable. Do not force yourself to speak of me softer than I actually deserve.”

This straightforward acknowledgement of Vergil’s own mistakes did not only astonished him. Nero found it absolutely shocking to hear. Getting a simple “I’m sorry” before took him so much effort to get that from his own father. And at that moment he himself brought that up on his own.

Vergil did not expect any responses in return. This serious, heartfelt talk did not break his serious expression even for an inch but he could not hide what his eyes had to say. His sad, blue eyes ended up staring at Nero’s teary eyes for a short moment. His eye color seemed to match his sons’ what would be odd if that was true. Perhaps the lightining in the van caused this illusion, which gave his eyes a less icy and cold impression.

The man in question was about to turn back to continue what he had meant to do earlier. There was something in the vehicle left what he was searching for even if not anything crucial for their incoming mission. Perhaps just an excuse. He still felt too uncomfortable around Nero but just leaving would be just too cowardly of him to do. At least having that excuse to avoid looking at him was enough to bear that awkward situation.

Before doing so, suddenly a touch on his arm surprised him.

“I forgive you.” Nero spoke.

Did he really know what he said? The question which raised in Vergil’s mind instantaneously. He failed to see any part of his actions as worthy such words.

“Do you really understand what you’re saying?” Vergil said.

“Yes. You bear so much shame for what you’ve done for so long and I think you deserve that to hear at least from me. To make it easier for you…”

His father was astonished and was unsure what to say in return for such… big words to say at least. That was tough to comprehend his son’s reasoning to just forgive him. The final word of his unfinished speech destroyed him completely.

“…father.”

That was a word he was unsure of hearing properly. Even if there had been a few occasions in which he was called that way but in this one, it really carried a certain meaning. An acknowledgement of him being somebody else – a parental figure, somebody actually meaningful, loved as a parent. That was strange. Very strange. This finisher left him speechless.

“Thank you, Nero.” That was all slipped through his lips and once again he resumed to pretend he was busy with certain activity around the van. That was not really that true. He just needed to hide how much he was about to tear up, without dramatically leaving like the last time. He hoped Nero had not already seen that as he thanked him because even then he could feel his eyes beginning to be sore.

Fortunately certain someone came to brighten the situation a little and redirect their attention from their own family drama. Apparently Dante could not help just waiting in his shop and came to pay them a visit. A figure of this perky uncle appeared in the van, in which it began to be a bit crowded with the all three man standing.

“Sorry to surprise ya like this. We need to hurry with this one.” Dante said “I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”

“No, of course not.” Vergil spoke calmly.

“Not really. What are you on?” Nero replied.

Dante let his sigh out as if he had something difficult to announce – especially for Nero – assuming through that he specifically directed himself at him.

“You’re staying out of this fight, Nero.”

“What?” the boy in question responded surprised.

“That’s exactly what you’ve heard. You’re staying. You shouldn’t be there in the first place.”

“Why?” both Nero and Vergil spoke at the same time.

“I mean… Vergil. I really hope you at least understand why. So explain that to your kid.” Dante said.

An even bigger astonishment painted on Vergil’s face, while Nero’s began to transform more and more to anger.

“What? He’s very competent to fight. We need at least three of us to win against him.” Vergil argued.

“We’ll take Lady and Trish for this. Nero should stay out of this.”

“What the fuck does it mean?!” Nero exclaimed “What the hell you don’t like about my skills? Am I deadweight for you again?! Is this what you want to say?”

“I mean… Nero… Just see this. Someone should keep an eye on Kyrie and this town around, don’t you think?” Dante attempted to explain, although it was very apparent the reasons provided weren’t necessary true.

“You’re lying! Say what you really mean! I am weak. Is this what’s in your fucking mind?!”

“Nero…” Vergil spoke.

“Mundus is just not your fight. You shouldn’t be dragged into that, Nero.”

“What the hell does it mean? Why isn’t it my fight? He want to kill all Sparda’s kin. I am Sparda’s kin!”

“You just don’t get it. You shouldn’t be involved in that.” Dante said.

“What you mean, Dante?” Vergil responded sounding annoyed.

“I mean… Damn! You know what? Let’s talk about it outside. Nero should stay. You’re his father and I think he’ll listen you better then.”

“Why are you leaving me out of this?”

“Just calm down, Nero. Vergil will tell you everything soon.” Dante was about to leave the van.

Vergil raised his hand to signalize to Nero to be quiet for a while, before his mouth spat more cusses and tantrums. He left the van while softly pushed on his back by Dante. They walked a bit further from the vehicle just to make sure Nero would not interrupt them with anything he would hear from the distance. They stopped at some spot and Dante began to speak.

“I know both of you have a thick skull but at least I hope you will get it. Especially when you finally unlearnt to throw tantrums unlike Nero…” Dante snorted.

“Well… I’m listening then.” Vergil said, whose voice disclosed irritation with both Nero’s screams and Dante’s unclear intentions.

“Mundus is a fight between me and you. Nero has nothing to do with that. Mundus is an embodiment of our life long trauma. An obsessive desire for revenge, which turns into various, dangerous shapes. Haunting fears and nightmares. An awful burden to carry through your life. You know what it means to fight him, right, Vergil? I think you even know that better than me. Then why do you want to drag him into that? Why do you want him to fall into this shithole?” Dante explained “All I want is to save him from this. I want him to have at least this illusion of normal life despite that Sparda’s blood runs in his veins.”

Such words needed time to process them and respond but despite that Vergil already knew he was not satisfied with Dante’s long speech and found his thought process absolutely wrong.

“This is what Mundus is for us, Dante. But for Nero? He is just another mighty devil to slay. Nothing more, nothing less, Dante. And aside from it, we’re only about to fight his servant. Why would that pose such a problem?”

“Have you ever thought of consequences of it?” his younger brother exclaimed.

“What would they be, Dante? Enlighten me.”

“Nero is still a young boy. He just has no idea what he wants to fight.”

“Do you really question his strength?” Vergil’s voice sounded both astonished and also annoyed.

A pause broke between them.

“Yes. But not because I think he is weak. He is just… unexperienced.”

“Bold of you to assume that.” older brother laughed sneeringly.

“Do you have anything what proves otherwise?” unlike him Dante remained serious.

“Of course. I fought him myself. Don’t you remember? And when you did it the last time?”

“Well… That was a few years ago… But come on, Vergil. I know you were only testing him that day. He should really stay and watch out for the others. Although why did I even expect you to understand this?”

“Are you trying to imply something?”

“Not saying it’s something necessary bad. You just don’t seem to consider his safety…”

“You’re ridiculous, Dante.” Vergil’s voice changed to a bit louder one.

“Because I don’t want him to be the next Angelo like you. Did I really have to say that between the lines to avoid upsetting you just to hear how much you fail to consider it?”

“I don’t assume he’ll lose like me. And if you’re concerned I’ll make sure of it myself.”

“Fine. Whatever. My point still stands. He isn’t going anywhere. Now tell him what you want.”

“I definitely won’t question his power like you.”

“Anyways, remember. We gotta stay close to each other. Gilver can come back at any minute.”

“Surely…” Vergil replied sneeringly and looked at Dante walking away with disregard. From his own perspective that was a very earned one.

Paranoia is something what would describe Dante’s actions. But maybe there was some truth to it. Perhaps it was Vergil, who as usually did not consider risks and consequences and just hoped such a serious situation would go well as always. This is something we will see settled very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this fic and this chapter specifically I never planned this funny coincidence to happen - it's a coincidence for me only but I want to share it with you what this is.
> 
> The chapter was meant to be updated a bit earlier because at first the chapter "Devil May Cry" and this one were one long chapter but I decided to split them in two. But after doing so I thought the most appropriate title for it would be "Father". The day I updated this was my own father's birthday. Never planned it but it happened. Perhaps Freud would already give me a certain diagnosis upon seeing this...


	13. The Cult Of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attention of a story moves to the past of the cult functioning before the very recent incidents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This current chapter doesn't include canon characters (in some ways Gilver is not canon but I wouldn't say it's really an OC either). I wanted to show better what the cult is and what relation Otto has to it.
> 
> If you're not really interested in it, then skipping that chapter won't cause any trouble with understanding the next chapters. The incoming chapter (14) will go back to the canon characters and the main plot.

Many people wonder what is like to belong to a cult regardless of the details. Of course there are qualities, which can be found in each of them. There must be a leader, a “god” to worship, who can be the leader himself. A very appealing idea must run the cult’s actions, which unlike just the mere words are often violent and cruel.

This cult of Light – or better yet the cult worshipping Mundus. What they truly were? How would people worship a demon, who wanted nothing but enslave the humanity? How could that be so possible? Some people desired to know the “hidden truth” drastically different from the common, everyday facts. Everyone heard about Sparda’s story of his awakening to justice and his contribution in saving the human kind despite his demonic heritage. That sounds not only impressive but in some ways contradicting. A demon saving the humanity? Without any benefits to gain at all? A devil, who needed to defeat the other one of his kind? What if that was all just biased propaganda? What if that was the story of a winner and a loser was obviously “demonized” in its own irony.

Some people could come up with such a conclusion but only out of desire to be above the others. Above the “sheeps” as they tend to say. There had been such cults before but they had been usually very little, unstable communities lacking a component, which would keep them strong. Surely the right leader, somebody charismatic enough to lead the other members in their strong faith. That was how the cult of Light formed starting from very little, niche groups - too weak to form a decent, strong community. Until a certain man showed up one day. Gilver, who seemed to look human but this fact always rose suspicion among the members. Despite this even if a leader was a demon himself that did not pose a problem. Even better, the leader was more believable that way. He was the one the closest to the truth as a demon and as a Mundus’ servant.

This is the condition Otto faced when he joined the cult several years ago. It had all started innocently as always. He run out all of his money. His family did not want to contact him and pretended to forget about him. He was very lonely and very bitter about all of this. He knew about the cult around Sparda – that was what his family strongly believed in. Sparda brings happiness and joy to the ones, who deserve it. How did he not deserve it? How? That was about when he questioned it all. That was when his interest in Mundus’ side rose. Was really Mundus the “bad guy” in that story? Perhaps, it was not true all along.

On his first weeks he felt delightful. Almost extatic to say at least. He found finally a place, in which he felt important, loved and as part of a big family. The talk about getting back the light was both emotional and kathartic for him. The light was understood variously among the members. For each one it was a synonym for what they needed the most – happiness, money or respect. Light was primarly understood as a stolen knowledge but in the end this concept evolved to be all the things people felt robbed from. Not in a materialistic sense. Happiness is not technically an object but it could be stolen as well.

So many people tended to tearfully confess about their painful lives. Otto was not an exception and he felt so joyful to be finally listened. To be finally understood by someone and not belittled for his issues.

This wonderful time of discovery stopped rather quickly and the feeling of belonging faded to sort of uneasiness. At first it was hard for him to tell what caused that but from the perspective of time he realized what were the reasons.

Some people, who he knew, started disappearing in mysterious circumstances. Surely they could not leave the cult – til their last days they were very dedicated in their faith. What happened then? Clueless Otto did not know then and perhaps he was fortunate around that time and could still enjoy the presence of the others giving him a sense of comfort.

That did not last too long. There was a day, which for a cult member could be called as an incredible honor. Gilver was a leader not everyone had the privilege to see. Simple, lesser members were not really allowed to see him in face to face. They could only listen to his laconic speeches, which were usually about Mundus’ gratefulness about their support. A rationally thinking cultist (what’s an oxymoron itself) should wonder how they helped in Mundus’ case. Most of them believed it happened in a spiritual sense and considered praying as something strengthening that demon everyday.

That incredible day of being the chosen one to see Gilver was something what changed Otto’s life for good surely. Of course, you do not know yet what that really means. He was called to show up, of course with a company of the cultists authorized to see and serve Gilver. He remembered feeling very excited about that meeting. He always wondered how their leader always looked like. The rumors regarding his true heritage excited him even more – was not that intriguing to see what a higher demon looked like? A demon, who possessed the intelligence of a human? And a voice of a human?

There was that odd place, which could not be reached without help. The gate seemed guarded by the magic spell itself and could not be broken without possessing the proper ability to do so. That was why the higher cultists were there. As they unlocked it they encouraged Otto to enter that place. They themselves stopped following him from that moment.

A very tall figure revealed itself to his own, shiny from excitement eyes. Was that him? Surely, it had to be. No human usually towered over someone that way and the armour he wore did not look human either. The face, he possessed, seemed to look normal and move as you would expect from a human. That was the very first thing he paid attention to.

“Today is your best day, isn’t it?” Gilver suddenly began to speak.

Otto was entirely speechless and barely articulated any comprehensive message through his own lips.

“Yes, master.”

“Very good then. I set a very special task for you to do. Something not everyone can do their whole lives.” he spoke.

“I am always ready for your service. I cannot express how big privilege that is.” a man kneeled.

“Please, you don’t have to.” Gilver responded to the man’s shown of respect “Please follow me and listen. But close your eyes and open them when I tell you.”

Otto was entirely obedient to anything he said. His trust to Gilver seemed not to have any limits and did not question such a request. Did not suspect it to be anything odd to do. In his brainwashed mind, he explained to himself that perhaps his eyes were not worthy to see the holy places, which Gilver wanted to pass by while reaching the place of destination.

As they stopped Otto smelled an odd scent in that place. He could not tell what it exactly reminded him of but surely it was very unpleasant. Perhaps he was just asked to sacrifice an animal like people did in ancient times. Not too hard to do. He used to skin some animals before.

He was told to open his eyes and so he did. At first what attracted his attention the most was an unnatural gap seemingly hanging on space. Was that what portal looked like? It seemed so. He could not see where it leaded to but he believed that was a gate to Mundus himself.

But then his eyes moved to the rest of the room and that image imprinted in his mind for so long to the point the visions of it haunted him in his dreams. What was it? Mostly dead bodies of the humans – probably cultists judging by their clothes. But some of them seemed still alive and to his own shock he could recognize the people he used to talk with. What the hell is going on here? This situation could be hardly explained. His body began to shiver.

“As you see, the way Mundus can retrieve the light is through giving him more strength.” Gilver began to speak oddly calmly in a such horrifying place.

“Strength? I guess throught praying? Through wishing him all the best?” Otto’s voice was trembling anxiously.

Gilver only commented it with his loud laugh.

“Yeah, that’s a nice fairy tale. Mundus is very real if you ever doubted it. He breaths, bleeds and eats like you. Do you know what demons need to eat to be strong?”

“I-I… don’t know… Food?” he was shaking.

“To be specific. Blood. Not just pig’s blood. It must be human.” Gilver snorted.

“I-I… I really thought… he fights for our case, doesn’t he? Why does he need that?” Otto exclaimed.

“I see what you fear… But don’t you wish for everyone to be happy? Not to feel sadness anymore? Not to feel rejected anymore? Not to feel that crippling pain? No one said it comes with no cost. But isn’t it such a great case to lose your life for? Mundus was once a very powerful demon but he needs physical means to retrieve his power once again.”

“But… But… It’s not how it should be…”

“Don’t worry, my dear! I never said you specifically have to lose your life. That was why I told you this is a very special task to do! So you don’t have to cry now.”

“What you mean?”

“Do you see some of these people? Don’t worry. They’re too weak to feel anything. Just take this dagger and pierce it through their chests. Just where their hearts are still beating. Barely but still beating. You will allievate their pain that way. I believe this is such a human thing to do, isn’t it?” Gilver reached his mighty hands to handle a dagger to little hands of Otto in comparison.

“But… What happened to them? Why some of them are still live?” he walked closer to some of the living people. They seemed to stare at him but no voice came out of them. They still breathed but could not move even by an inch.

“Do you not know it? A human blood gives us strength. But a full of fear blood is a real power boost. Our master feels he’s getting better and his body is ready to receive such amount of power from it. It was necessary to… torture them a little. Now, please, do what I said.”

Otto felt his hands would not hold the dagger any longer. His whole body was trembling almost unnaturally. A heart racing so strong as if it was about to destroy his own chest and jump out of it. Hyperventilated to the point he would almost lose consciousness. But he had to do that. This had to be done quick.

He closed his eyes to stab a certain person. Sadly, closing his eyes was a mistake. Instead of doing a precise movement, which would end it all, he had to repeat it as he stabbed someone’s arm accidentally. He had to watch it and focus on it. It was tough… very tough to concentraite and control his trembling hands to hit the right spot. After the first successful attempt he broke down. He threw the dagger away and began to hysterically sob. His body fell down and simply sat there crying as a baby.

Gilver was not only unmoved but even disappointed with the results. Seeing Otto’s helplessness he had to use some force… or at least start to move the man like a puppet. He took the thrown dagger and then grabbed the man’s arm in a strong, almost painful grip. Technically it was Gilver, who continued the task but by using Otto’s hand. His body was torpid and so it looked as if the leader of a cult was using him as doll, mimicking movements he wanted it to do. As he was done, he threw Otto away.

“You’re worthless. You disappointed me.” Gilver spoke. Otto still laid down trying to support his weight with his shaking arms.

“You lost the privilege of prolonging your life. This is where your life ends. Right here.” Gilver continued and took the dagger he had thrown earlier.

“No… Please! Wait!” Otto tried to helplessly encourage Gilver to reconsider that decision. Sadly for him, he did not seem to care. His begging was faced with silence and a horrifying image of a man approaching him just to kill him.

This intense feeling of determination. The will for life screaming in his mind. But he was helpless against such a creature. A demon. There was no way he could escape from. It seemed as if it was all guarded with magic barricades. Or perhaps demonic? What would be the difference anyway? His strongest desire was to escape. And he did. But how?

It was a very strange thing to happen, which perhaps do not occur that often. Especially when such extreme situations rarely happen. The man just disappeared and ended up somewhere outside. This could not be anything else but magic. A certain power, which everyone can get in charge of but only specialists knew how to controllably use it. In this adrenaline rush somehow he managed to get in possession of it and do what he deeply desired.

That was how he managed to survive but surely he was not the same man ever again. And that was something what inspired him to become a demon hunter himself – to Dante’s image. He knew very well the cruelty of the demons and a danger coming through feeding the beast called Mundus. He dedicated his life to hunt every single demon and to lead to cult’s collapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad I made an OC, whose role was so limited to just report some information. I wanted to expand a little on his character (and Gilver too). It's not too much but I think he deserved it.


	14. The Second Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story comes back to the current timeline, when the trio is about to face the powerful demon under Mundus' service. With what kind of outcome this time?

The second, inevitable fight was coming from the distance even if nobody knew when and from where it would surprise them. The arguments went silent and all the demon hunters gathered around a certain spot, which they found the safest for the humans and the best for their fight. An abandoned parking area seemed to be a very convenient place for that, didn’t it? Even if Dante had strong remarks against Nero presence but he had to finally give up and submit to the kid’s enthusiasm and his father’s insistence. Trish and Lady were willing to kick ass of another demon. Even the stranger called Otto seemed very much into that idea as well. Five demon hunters against that mighty devil? He had to lose. This was out of a question for Vergil and Nero. Dante was not that sure. Especially when he had taken some time to analyze Gilver’s speech carefully and received a certain conclusion from it. But Vergil should not know it…

It was a rather warm, sunny day, which pleased the waiting time but spending it in a such empty spot of a town felt very boring after several hours. Was not that more logical to pay him a visit on his cave? Perhaps he was already back there, wasn’t he? But they could not disperse. He promised them to come back just to fullfil Mundus’ orders. That boredom once again raised a certain heated discussion between Dante and Nero.

“No, I’m not going anywhere! I’m fighting right here!” Nero exclaimed.

“I’m telling you. Stay out of this! This is not just your fight. It’s just really dangerous for you!” Dante screamed back.

“I have an arm back. I have all the power I need. And yet you still treat me like a stupid, incompetent child!”

“It’s not what I mean, Nero. You just shouldn’t get into that. Mundus is something more than just a dumb demon with his even dumber servants.” Dante tried to calm the kid down.

“No. He is just that. And after I kick Gilver’s ass I’ll immediately get after his! Stop fucking belittling me!”

Vergil felt nothing more than annoyance at both of them wasting that energy on unnecessary screaming. But surely he found Dante to blame for it and his irrational fear regarding Mundus. Even if he found it understandable to a degree. Nero had proven many times he is a very serious opponent tough to defeat. Yet, his younger brother did not want to believe that for a reason. Or maybe it was something entirely different. But there was no time to think about it and diagnose Dante’s psychological problem. He observed the so far empty space just to warn these two arguing idiots just in case.

There was no need for such an attentive observation. Gilver’s entrance was announced through the one big, glowy hole, which appeared out of nowhere just in the middle of the parking zone. And before his figure showed up out of that, it took some time. He did not seem very bothered by that and his calm posture indicated he did not considered that fight to be too serious. Should that be concerning for the demon hunters? Demons can just act as if the battle did not impress them just to discourage their opponents more. Everyone but Dante did not let it fool them. The legendary hunter did not fear getting seriously injured or killed but he truly believed what Gilver had said to them before. He was unbeatable and possessed all the demonic strength of Vergil. If Vergil could not surpass him, how could he really defeat him according to that spell? Impossible… at that moment.

All of the demon hunters got ready, equipping or strengthening their grips on their swords or guns. This time they would not be surprised and just waited for the best occasion. Obviously their mighty opponent could not help himself from starting with a little speech.

“Do you really believe you can defeat me? Do you really think that spell is just a lie? But you can check that yourselves. Just go ahead. Do it.”

The only response received back were demon hunters rushing at Gilver and hoping their mass attack would overwhelm the demon. Perhaps it was working. The devil in question fell down at first but it did not indicate anything. He instantaneously threw them all away from him and equipped his katana-esque sword. There was no need for demon hunters to make a use out of their Devil Triggers. The situation was fully in control so far and were prepared for a fight with an incredibly durable enemy. But surely that should not last forever – this would either end with his death or exhaustion.

But there was something Dante could not help himself from. Whenever Nero tried to join the battle he kept telling him to back off. To go back and watch out for the others. And the words, which never stop leaving his mouth “this is not your fight”. It was his fight, Nero thought angrily. The tension between him and Dante rose. That did not predict anything good for sure if a team gathered around one objective was getting unstable.

That heated battle plus the angry exchange between Nero and Dante began to shift the character of their fight. At first they were fully focused on Gilver and that way having the control over the situation. But as the time progressed and tension rose their behavior exhibited not only launched attacks at Gilver but also pushing themselves around. Especially that was coming from Dante, who wanted to use a force to stop Nero from this fight. It was not what he should normally do in his sane mind and if he was in his default mood not affected by the battle he would fully realize that.

But the battle against Mundus’ servant inflicted a certain mood in Dante. Something he had forgotten long time ago. It was a mixture of fear and anger directed at him. Everytime Mundus was involved he felt that was his fault for people’s fates. The demon attack on his early childhood? If not because of him it would not happen – surely Mundus would not be so infuriated if Sparda never beget an offspring. That way his mother would still live. Vergil’s torment under Mundus’ control? If he did not give up so easily at leaving Vergil in hell, he would never experience this trauma. He would never be as broken as he was now. He could not let this to happen to Nero. That kid had a strength, he was certain, but he was sure Gilver was unbeatable and that should be left for him and Vergil to figure that out.

That tension disintegrated the fight against Gilver. Even if that was just Nero and Dante throwing tantrums at each other but that affected the rest of demon hunters as well. It seemed like they began to lose control over it. The demon’s attacks began to be unpredictable – often times ending up unnecessary hit because of the attention drawn to the arguing uncle and his nephew. It was so bad to the point Vergil needed to intervene what disrupted his concentration on an actual fight.

That battle between him and Gilver did not leave Vergil indifferent either similarly to Dante but this situation brought up something different. It was truly traumatizing to fight against someone, who possessed his face and wore an armour, who he only recognized as his torment. It felt like a very awful joke pulled out by Mundus’ himself. A painful irony he wanted him to experience. But he had an inner strength, which did not let that hold him back. The need for revenge on what had been done on him – how he was humiliated and left almost dead afterwards. Gilver’s image reminded him of his unwilling service and inflicted the fierce need to kill it. This idea made him feel more confident and physically stronger but despite that his best strikes did not even leave a scrath on that devil. And the fact he had a company of the other five demon hunters with him smoothened any anxiety he would feel towards him.

Nero found himself in the position to launch the most powerful strike on Gilver, who was rushing at him at that moment. That did not discourage him instead made him wait for that convenient moment to pierce Red Queen through his chest. But once again Dante felt the need to tell him to back off. He screamed at him to leave. That distracted Nero. One second to just look at Dante’s angry face costed a lot.

Nero tried to block Gilver’s attack with Red Queen but the opponent was incredibly strong. He felt he clearly overpowered him. If that was not enough he also felt his sword cracking. It broke and shattered into pieces. Blue Rose was his last resort but he was too late. Gilver pierced a sword through his chest instead. Getting stabbed was not a certain death for a demon hybrid for sure but that katana… The pain Nero experienced was immeasurable. The demon made sure to impale him to the ground. He coughed blood and breathed heavily.

Dante upon seeing this rushed at Gilver and tried to launch a firm strike with his DSD but Gilver pushed him back with his phantom, demonic arms. He was interested just in Nero. A Sparda kin finally captured. He found it the best moment to end that fight with a treasure he finally got. Anyone who tried to get to him were thrown away. Then he left with unconscious Nero on his arms through the suddenly opened portal. Where could he go?

Dante was incredibly mad at this situation. Not at himself even if Nero would leave that situation perfectly fine if not for him distracting his attention. He wanted to go after Gilver in a rush.

“Vergil, make a use of Yamato. We have to catch this bastard!” he screamed.

Vergil was more collected in that situation. Perhaps only because he did not give himself time to process everything and what all of that could imply.

“Sure. But do you know where did this thing go?” he asked.

“Can’t you just open that your fucking portal to go after him? I thought after so many years you know who to use that damn thing?!” clearly Dante was getting even more infuriated.

“My apologizes, brother. Even Yamato has its limits and if its user doesn’t know the place he wants to reach then it won’t lead you there. I thought was easy to tell.” Vergil responded annoyed.

“Whatever, can’t you all just look around that damn cave first?” Lady decided to take a voice in that heated discussion.

“That’s a good idea.” Vergil said.

“As if you couldn’t think of that first!” Dante exclaimed.

“Calm down.” His older brother looked at him and spoke in a low, slow voice.

Vergil did that characteristic move on the air with Yamato and the portal before them opened. The rest of demon hunters went in with Vergil as the last one. The cave was the last hope to find anything. And sadly after some time of examining it gave a rather upsetting results. Dante’s anger grew once again.

“I told you to talk to him, explain him why that was a bad idea and force him to stay! And this is what we got. Thank you, Vergil!” Dante pushed Vergil.

“He was very competent in this fight. There is the other thing I observed instead, Dante.” Despite that violation of his space by pushing him, Vergil remained calm. Perhaps starting a fit in a such situation would only worsen everything.

“What? What exactly?”

“You kept dismissing him. You know how much he hates it, right?”

“And what does it have to do with him being captured, dumbass?”

“He would be perfectly fine if you stopped belittling him.”

“Me? Belittling him?!”

“Come on, Dante. Telling someone they should not be in such a fight sounds like belittling somebody’s competence. You know he always takes such words to his heart. Especially from you. He is a good fighter but he lost all of his confidence because of you. This is how he lost.”

Dante remained silent this time but the words Vergil told him did not get received by him fully. His older brother was right but he needed time to process that. To even think what happened in general. He took a deep breath. He was ready to move to another thing, which was far more important than just discussing his own behavior.

“Where do you think we can find him if at all? Is there any way we can track him down? Does Yamato needs a special ritual for this or something.”

Vergil sighed loudly knowing the truth was a bit sadder.

“I’m afraid there is nothing we can really do about it.”

Dante still did not feel discouraged and was hopeful to find a solution. But surely they had to leave that cave first.

“No. There is always a way, you just don’t know shit. But first we gotta leave that shithole.”

Vergil wanted to be as hopeful as Dante was but he was certain they did not possess any abilities to look for Nero. But the older brother did not want to kill Dante’s enthusiasm yet. He knew what Dante’s despair would lead to. Even he himself did not process fully what were the consequences of all of it. He was just focused on the fact Nero could not be found and brought back. The connection between that and a loss still did not occur to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Nero fans that I had to kill him that way. No more father-son bonding. XD  
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Well, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't read the next chapters carefully.


	15. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante's determination to find and get his nephew back leaded him to think of a plan in his shop with his brother's a little help. What were the results?

They came back to Dante’s Devil May Cry shop. Just them inside and nobody else. Dante sitting before his desk and still thinking about the solution. There were things he considered especially spells. Could there be a spell, which could track this bastard down? Vergil knew that was what occupied his younger brother’s mind but he had to disappoint him. They did not exist – there were just some long gone forgotten rituals. For a reason – they just did not work properly or required a lot of resources. And the resources would often include something what was a part of a person, who was supposed to be found. It was also uncertain if it would work the same on a demon.

Dante still believed there was a way. They had Yamato. The only problem was just to find that place. He had an idea… Sadly very uneffective one. Hell could be a place, in which Gilver could end up in. But that meant nothing. They did not even know where was current Mundus’ hideout. All of it seemed pointless.

“Can’t you just feel where he is, Vergil? Shouldn’t this just work?” Dante spoke annoyed.

“Feeling doesn’t necessary mean reading one’s mind, Dante. It’s not how it works.”

His younger brother began to feel anxious. The last shred of hope definitely left him upon realization of a lack of solutions. Nothing in a sight indicated they could just get Nero back. At this point he finally started to wonder about something else. Something perhaps even more important to consider. What was happening to Nero at that moment? That was a crucial question to him. Suddenly he asked Vergil about it as if he expected him to know better than him. But his older brother knew as much as him.

“If that’s it… Then what will happen to Nero?” Dante looked at Vergil standing next to his desk with scared eyes. He expected the worst.

Vergil did not have enough time to dwell on that before. That was why before his reply his gaze moved up as if he could find more thoughts on a celling. Then he sighed loudly.

“None of this sounds good. The best result is death… as he promised. The worst result is… Angelo.”

“What you mean by Angelo? Him… Becoming this…?” Dante’s wondering was responded with Vergil’s nod.

Dante went silent, processing everything he had heard. That was a lot to comprehend and accept as a truth. He had a hard time understanding all of that. And before the inevitable acceptance his anger bursted once again.

“Why the hell did you let him even fight?” he stared angrily at Vergil.

“I thought you finally understood that. What I said before…” he remained calm.

Dante remembered that speech. He was still in denial and his silence seemed to indicate that. His older brother once again attempted at clarifying that to him even if Dante was close to understanding all of it.

“He lost his confidence in himself and power. You’re his role model, Dante. He looks up to you more than me. And telling him that… He began to believe you and this is how he lost… and… if he lives… he is Angelo now.”

His younger brother received it. All of it very clearly. And he began to realize his fault. Dante’s paranoia caused this. He thought he was making sure no one would ever be hurt by Mundus ever again. That he would finally break that fatum haunting him but once again he caused a tragedy. As he was dwelling on that he muttered without moving his gaze at Vergil. His eyes covered by his white hair.

“Vergil…” he spoke silently “Do you think… Is this my fault?”

It was. Vergil was certain of it but replying to it positively would do nothing good. What to do? How to dodge this uncomfortable situation?

“No one is to blame for this, brother.”

Dante only snorted… painfuly at his older brother’s bad lie.

“You just told me it is. It truly is my fault.”

This time Vergil’s comment was silence he remained in. It was the last confirmation of Dante’s blame and definitely a breaking point for his younger brother. The fact his care costed someone’s life. This was a pain hard to bear.

The silence fell over the office. Vergil just standing, while leaning on Dante’s desk. The weather outside dramatically different from what it was like a few hours ago. During a fight it was so sunny but now the only sound, which was coming through the rain hitting the windows. He watched it calmly… but this should not be mistaken with indifference. His mind was still processing such an intense day.

Dante’s position surely indicated a storm of thoughts happening in his mind. He leaned his head on his hands, his fingers going through his hair, which covered his face. And his position did not seem to change as if he froze.

Vergil could hear his younger brother’s breathe getting heavier and sniffs escaping through his nose. This did not indicate anything good, he thought. In a position he was earlier he did not really see Dante. He was behind his back. And now he turned around to examine the situation but he sensed that long time ago that was what would happen in the end. Vergil was not the best at comforting people and he himself did not feel too well but he tried. An awkward “Are you okay?” escaped through his mouth. Dante did not really reply to it and only shook his head in negation.

What to do now, he thought? What could be the best to do for him? Hugging was something he would never bring himself to do especially when he simply hated being hugged himself. Any kind of taking a pity for him was making him cringe. But his younger brother was not him. Dante surely wished to get any form of comfort. What could be a good compromise to that?

Vergil approached him closer and all he could do was put his hand on his back and smoothly rub it. That was all he could do and that was still a lot. His nineteen year old self would not only just leave him in silence but surely would not refrain himself from sneering remarks. And here he was really trying to be a supportive brother this time.

Dante really appreciated it and found himself very astonished about Vergil. His older brother even trying to give him comfort? This old man truly had changed! But despite that one glimmer of positivity, he was very deeply in his sorrow. In his blame and shame for what his over-protectiveness leaded to. And this time even Vergil was not to blame.

His younger brother uncovered his face and put his hands down on the desk. That disclosed a rather expected image – cheeks wet from the tears and that very crushing expression. Such a messy face was something, what was not seen since childhood by Vergil. While for a child any silly moment could induce tears, but for a grown men it indicated and pointed out the seriousness of the situation.

While Dante did not see Vergil in a such miserable condition as he was, something else attracted his attention. The eyes… Some people say they are a reflection of someone’s soul. When they first met as men in ther fourties he remembered his eyes to be very cold. Icy blue is how he would describe them. Perhaps that color perfectly reflected his stoicism and how much sucked out of humanity he was. Then they had that heated talk about Nero. While in the van Dante had blamed it for the lightining inside – Vergil’s eyes seemed as blue as his son’s. But as they had gone outside it had confirmed that it had not been just an illusion. His eyes had been truly blue. If that was not confusing enough then at this point as he stared at his face for a brief while then he realized Vergil’s eyes were green. Just like V’s.

Even his “Resting Vergil’s Face” was gone and not because at that moment his older brother disclosed some kind of pity for him through his face. He tried to be reserved as he always tended to be but something on his face… it felt _warm_. Once again just like V’s face. This was confusing but at the same time he found that gladdening him. It seemed his older brother really found a way to connect with his own humanity in his own way. Though he was still that stoic jerk he remembered but at least he was easier to tolerate like that. His deadbeat brother finally discovered after all these years what it means to be compassionate. Though that was so strange to get used to it.

Dante felt the need for some space. Some time to spend alone with himself even if he appreciated his older brother’s efforts at comforting him but there are moments which loneliness was necessary. In this brief but thought-inducting scene Dante finally broke it with something expected.

“Thank you for that, Vergil. I need some time for myself though. I think you know that the best.”

He knew what Dante suggested. Vergil preferred facing any emotions alone… That was still a big achievement for someone, who once used to constantly rejecting them. At this point he tolerated them to a degree… but the limit was when he was in someone’s company. He enjoyed the impression of being the always more collected person in a group and people taking a pity for him was something he could not stand.

The weather outside sucked but it did not matter to his older brother. Somehow he enjoyed this how it matched his own mood. There was a certain place he wanted to visit alone and he was glad his brother decided to stay with his own thoughts in the office. It was not a good situation to collect all thoughts and finally realize the gravity of that today’s loss. Of course he lost a son but he did not connect that. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dig the idea/headcanon, especially when in the last game doesn't care that much about the twins being identical, that the growing humanity in Vergil manifests through his eyes resembling V's eye color. Urizen has light green eyes, V has green eyes... So if both end up equally strong and present, maybe Vergil should have them green too. Well, this is just purely aesthetic and rather metaphorical. I still prefer the twins to be identical no matter what.
> 
> I got the inspiration from a certain art/comic but sadly I couldn't find it and put a direct link to let you see.
> 
> I really hope though that the scene in which I describe his eyes from Dante's POV didn't get too weird... I literally wrote this to show Vergil's change of his look... I still changed that scene to make it less odd or "shippy".


	16. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil thoughts, doubts and insecurities arising.

This growing shame and guilt began to feel unbearable. Vergil’s mind fighting with its last shreds of running-out energy. Repression used to be an always effective method. Why was it failing him? Putting aside all the feelings – a once working strategy. It was once easy to pretend it was all him. Forgetting he had anything in common with humanity.

It all started with that odd fever dream. A self-identified devil had been once dragged into that wild journey of his mind. With no warnings. With nothing foreshadowing it coming. His mind had been just fully occupied to focus on another mission to complete with Nero. Before that day not a glimmer of shame haunted him like this. 

His actions and crimes did not have that much weight of harm to him. There could be brief moments dedicated on reflection on them. But all the conclusions seemed to be too vague to single them out. As if something was blocking his way to reach their true message and he was left hanging with unspecific feeling of discomfort. An emotion easy to throw away since it carried no meaning to the devil. A man, who discarded his humanity for power. 

A view of Devil Bringer had caused him to feel _something_. But it had been too unclear to induce shame. It was felt as an odd discomfort manifesting as his chest slightly tightening and aching. Perhaps this is what a human kind call this a shame and regret – he concluded that much later. His craftsmanship at throwing away what is uncovenient had been truly impressive when it comes to such moments. To the point when even he had lost control over that skill. Some of these missing “messages” could be seen as confusing even for him. A blurry image, which he would like to see better. But it stayed covered behind an undestructive wall. And unreachable places tend to be ignored and then abandoned out of habit. That is what he had done.

Should he have apologized to his son? 

He had not felt like explaining himself and apologizing for something what was _just_ an accident. If he had been aware of their connection, he would have definitely acted differently. But it had happened and the arm was back. And despite that, it was Vergil, who mattered the most in that situation. A body at the verge of death, his mind close to entire disintegration and irreversible insanity. It was justified. With an exception of the uncontrollable rampage of his demon half. Isn’t it foolish? That was meant to be his true self. True power.

But it all had changed on that one day. His mind fully awake and concentrated on slaying the demons. He remembered watching the town through the van’s windows and observing creatures around. Then it had felt like having a blackout. As if that was a force inducted dream sequence. There were glimpses of that vision he could recall vaguely – defeating Urizen and leaving that odd throne room. A moment suspected to be a beginning of this mess. A weak sensation was born. An odd feeling – or a mood? Vergil had lacked words to describe that phenomenon. 

It was like finding yourself in a whole new reality. At first he had brushed that all off as he usually did. An image of dead humans laying around – it was when the “feeling” manifested stronger. Something what managed to do the opposite of his old mental habits. He had to **think**. As if he had been forcefully dragged into it. Think about these people. Killed by the remaining demons, which had found a way out of hell thanks to Qliphot. Isn’t it what the most talented poets name as **conscience**? That was a moment of its rebirth in Vergil’s soul… It had began to sound. Mildly at the very beginning but it grew stronger everyday since.

It judged – his actions were evil. It pointed out – his life choices caused harm to the others. It screamed – he was an evil person. He exclaimed back – how can he fix all of that? He cried inside – “I don’t wish to be evil anymore”. He flooded his newborn entity of his mind with questions “how” but he never received anything back. It was a circle, which could lead to another insanity. He desired to kill **it**.

The irony of his compassion was its absolute control over his actions. He would have splitted himself in half once again to make **this** shut up. Make it go back where it had come from. But it made him realize the gravity of consequences caused by Yamato. He could not bring himself to do it once again. He glanced over Yamato, which he carried near his tight, as if he begged it to do it itself without his own will. But it could not. Humanity he hated finally captured him and poked fun at him, didn’t it?

This image, which he saw reflected by Yamato he kept staring at, he could not recognize the man appearing in it anymore. This was still his face - clean shaven, the same facial bone structure but his look was… so oddly human. And his eyes… The same gaze V had. And their color same as his mother’s. Not icy blue but green. This dream was not just a dream, wasn’t it? Who did this to him? Was there something he did not know about Yamato’s power? Could it not only separate a human from the devil but as they unite back, they really do by creating an unseperatable being?

The biggest irony of that “gift” he received, the gift of conscience and compassion, was it did not give him answers. It did not tell him how to fix what he had done in the past. It felt mocking it did not only shove down his throat the gravity of his crimes. Conscience was explicitly telling him how much it was irreversible. How much he would never redeem himself from it – from the thousand lives taken and contribution to Dante’s trauma.

Speaking of which… Of course, as a little child he could not be possibly responsible for what they both had gone through. No one was to blame for it. But what happened later in their lives… that was not left without any influence on Dante. His choice of going to hell – surely that crushed his younger brother. That hand he reached in desperation to save his older brother. Vergil was too prideful to bend for such a thing, for someone’s offer of help. But he remembered Dante’s face. It was absolutely devastated even if that was he, who launched the final strike at him. 

And then a few years later he encountered his older brother once again but corrupted – under Mundus’ control. Hard not to blame yourself for what happened to your older, stubborn brother. Dante was still a child deep down. And currently Dante could see how Vergil was still mentally recovering from this unwilling service. Vergil could see how much Dante’s trauma was being fueled by that. All of this because of his search for power. It leaded him to nothing but loneliness and pain instead of true happiness. Not to mention how much harm it caused on the others.

This meaningless concept of power. Had Vergil ever understood its true meaning? Did he know what he had been actually looking for? The truth was even he himself did not know it completely. It was just a vague concept, which was supposed to fix everything wrong in his life and on him. Power was meant to give him everything but what that “**everything**” even meant for him? He used to know, perhaps when he had been still a child. But with the time passing the reasons began to become unclear but the desire even stronger than ever. Everything seemed to be anything he did not and could not have. This religious concept of power – instead of it giving him something, it dragged him deeper and deeper into downhill – taking his family away from him, killing his last shred of humanity and in the end mental stability. Such an destructive path he had taken many years ago. What was a true reason for his adopted inhumanity? To hide from haunting childhood horror? Or to be ready to throw away everything to gain power?

His son Nero… That was a biological fact they were connected by a family bond but was there any possibility to form a bond of higher level than this? Was not that too late? Especially now. His son was surely gone. Taken to be killed or imprisoned to become another Mundus’ servant. Vergil felt in some ways responsible for this. Dante freaking out about Nero in that battle was an effect of his past choices. Of him becoming Nelo Angelo, even if unwillingly but by his own fault.

The mention of “Angelo” made his hands tremble once again. A heart beginning to race in his chest, the urge of breathe pattern accelerating and an apparent dryiness in his mouth attacking him all at once. The rain had already drenched his hair as he was standing there thinking. 

He knew how to deal with these attacks of a strange condition. Just waiting til its gone and not letting it to get worse. He gazed at his uncontrollably shaking hands and kept clenching them, then rubbing them against each other. His body wanted to hyperventilate but he made sure to keep that in control and only a few heavy gasps left out his mouth. He was reassured that was not fear. That was a condition he was familiar with for longer time. Once associated with awful visions haunting him. But now surprising him only with physiological symptoms. This condition became a part of his odd quirks. Unpleasant but that is what it is.

Dante had told him once to “_let it all go_” when he had seen him having one of such episodes. Indeed there had been something cathartic about that suggestion even if he had strongly opposed it. But there was not time for it at that moment. He had to be ready for a surprise attack from anywhere. 

It seemed inconvenient he and Dante were dispersed but Vergil had already decided on the character of the third battle. He had to face it himself – **alone**. It started to be clear the demon could not be indeed killed unless he faced conditions proper to break the spell protecting him. What were the conditions, which did not let Vergil kill him or even harming him at all? What was the reason of why it seemed to be close to impossible for Vergil to qualify for them? 

The constant company of at least one demon hunter. Gilver’s bold assumption had a very strong basis. Mundus’ loved playing with his victims even if they had escaped him long time ago. This mighty demon surely wanted to poke fun at how Vergil was affected by him. His trauma was just amusing to him. A poor human freaking out about things reminding him of his pain and oppression. He knew Vergil would not be willing to fight alone against Mundus’ servant, who looked like his nightmare fuel. Something he wished to forget but instead he was forced to watch it and fight it. This was not a trick to fool them. That was indeed the truth, he realized.

This reflection caused Vergil to lose control over this _attack_ he was having. He possessed all the strength to kill off such a mere servant but his mind did not. Fighting alone was the key, he was certain. But the fear he felt towards it made him frustrated. His body refused to obey his plan. The breath pattern switched to uncontrollable hyperventilating, which he had had in check before. Heart racing even faster as if it was about to jump out of his chest. Hands getting cold and trembling even more. The knees attacked by the sudden rush of weakness. Too weak to support his weight, making him kneel on the ground. 

That was terrifying. Power controls everything… but mighty body was nothing without powerful mind. Demons never considered inner life that crucial. Strengthening your will was a laughable concept to them. Boasting about how much they can do damage or kill was the only impressive thing for them. Humans do not possess this kind of power but their minds are a source of it. Their intelligence and will manages to match demons’ strength and brutality. Human mind keeps an individual going, withstanding everything what goes against their current aim. And then their compassion manages to boost the strength of their will. Keep going just to save the one they care about. 

This was why he could never wield Devil Sword Sparda. 

Vergil was a powerful demon but completely powerless against his own fear. Gilver, who was an embodiment of his biggest defeat. Mundus made fun of him once again even without his personal, close presence. 

The anger began to be a more dominant emotion in Vergil’s mind. Fists clenched, eyebrows frowned. The urge to vocalize that appeared. He expressed it through growling, then hitting the ground with his own fists. As if that was supposed to help him find the strength he needed. Being so helpess angered him and made him want do… violent things. If any demons were around him, he would slay them all more fiercefully than usually. But this wrathful storm slowly faded to give place to… **despair** of its oddly silent and empty kind. 

Everything went quiet including the rain. His hands put on his tights. Breath controlled for a moment. And him gazing emptily somewhere, while kneeling. A silence before storm. He could feel that building up. A mixture of worst thoughts and feelings about to overwhelm the man, who tried to use this almost run out energy on self-control. This was a battle he also lost this time.

His body froze, a gaze stuck at one spot. His mind suddenly empty, deprived of any thoughts, just consumed by a hurting feeling of defeat. Expression of his face blank – eyes exhibiting a lack of contact with the world surrounding him. Currently having their vision focused on his tights but not actually consciously observed.

He was physically present but currently his mind wandered through different places. In his chaotish journey a certain memory paid him a visit. The speech he had given in his past dream. Something what he had said himself to his demonic companion – “_I have run away too many times. I have to see this through. I have enough of strength to do it finally_.”

“No, I don’t think I have enough of strength.” he spoke under his breath as he recalled that.

“_I must face the truth I always avoided. I must face something what Urizen twisted and replaced with something convenient I believed to be true for so long_.” The said memory echoed in his mind.

“That was just a dream. The only place, where even the most foolish, impossible ideas can become true.” he spoke as if he replied to the voice from his currently experienced memory.

“_There is one thing humans have and demons don’t. It’s a will. You don’t have it. You are just a primitive force. Nothing more, nothing less.”_

Vergil bursted into a painful laugh as he recalled that speech – his very own bold speech manifested to Urizen. Yet currently it could as well refer to Gilver. He was not definitely just a primitive force with a spell protecting him.

“_A will could withstand a body’s physical weakness and keep me going. A will killed you the last time despite of the man who was a source of that was dying and you possessed the greatest power you would ever get. A will managed to face the scariest of nightmares and a will is challenging you right now.”_

There was a certain truth to that, he thought. It could not be explained the other way round how this fragile human half managed to survive so long and not die immediately. _A will_… Could this be considered _a power_? Something what could help him overcome his own weakness coming from his mind? Is not that ridiculous? Humans do not possess powers, do they?

He recalled his second fight. This odd driving force he had felt then. He could feel it strengthening him. Was that a will? Could this keep him going and allievate his fear?

A control over his body was restored. A breath in check. Legs obeying him. Mind suddenly fully focused on that one aim. A weird sense of peacefulness settled – at least for that moment. Just on the right time. A blueish light could be seen from the distance. This implied one certain thing. 

Gilver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays for all of you!


	17. The Last Milestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final fight between the devil and a half human has started. Who will win this battle?

A man in a mighty armor awaited for his opponent on the abandoned parking area, in which the last battle had taken place before. This time covered by a dark coat of the late, cloudy evening. It may come across as odd that this time Gilver patiently waited for Vergil to arrive instead of surprising him with an unexpected strike of his sword. He could not simply miss that opportunity to see the man approaching him in a paralyzing him fear. Making him reach the place himself would tire him off better than just surprising him, Gilver believed.

As the said man showed up, they were standing there in the distance, looking at each other. Each of them examining their opponents carefully but especially Vergil, he found himself in a completely new situation. The view of Nelo Angelo armor and a man resembling his face filled his body with weakness. He could not give up yet. Not before the final battle started. The Yamato was removed from its sheath, the man wielding it attempted to approach his enemy closer. His walk did not seem that powerful and confident instead it disclosed a struggle and unsureness. Despite that he tried, even if the fear began to grow stronger and stronger.

Gilver observed this struggle with a sneer on his face. His posture seemed to be relaxed and did not expect his opponent to attack him. Especially when he could read Vergil’s mind as well. The conclusion coming from it: he would not do it.

The weakness consuming Vergil’s knees grew strong enough to the point they could not support his weight anymore and made him unwillingly fell down. Was that it? This is how it will all end? No. He pushed himself against the ground but his legs did not want to obey him. Even his arms began to tremble.

This fear of getting enslaved haunted his mind. Screamed into his ears. These irrational thoughts predicting his inevitable failure, while the consumption of Qliphot fruit made him an equal to Dante – one of the most powerful demons. Yet, the said “powerful” demon kneeled unable to stand up. No trap kept him there. Not even a spell. Not a poison. His own mind trapped him in the past – making him believe to be too weak to win against his opponent. This opponent of a very special kind created to his traumatizing image. A symbol of his very pricely failure. This was what he had become when he had lost.

This miserable scene amused Gilver. Expecting Vergil not to stand up, he approached him instead to give a very special speech to him. As demons love to do.

“Poor, miserable human.” He began “Is it all you can really do alone?”

Vergil did not reply back.

“I wonder if you will be willing to fight… for this boy’s life?” suddenly a familiar figure emerged from a gap made on air. That was Nero, unconsciouss and caged in a glowing sphere.

“I have a few options for you. First – you give up your life in exchange of his. Or we fight til one of us die.” Gilver spoke.

Giving up his life without a fight was out of option for Vergil. He had to finish that monster’s life for good. To stop that bizarre’s cult existence and their demonic mess. To cut off Mundus’ right arm, which was Gilver. To save Nero foremost.

“I know what you’re thinking, Vergil. Really?” he snorted “Do you really care for the dying humans? You? You consider this an unnecessary havoc? It’s nothing in comparison to what you really did!”

Gilver once again was faced with silence.

“Do you think defeating me will redeem your crimes? Do you think anyone will forgive you that? Forget you’re prone to mad driven actions? The fact you’re a walking bomb of bloody surprises for the humans? You can really think of this, Vergil. You don’t have to serve Him. Give up this fight. Give up _that fight_ too. You will never get what you wish for. You will be always silently hated. Even by your own son. Persist in the path you always leaded.”

This path had been over. Something he could not go back to no matter what would force him to do. The path, which he should have never gone through from the very beginning but now he had to live with this fact. Accept it as his own burden but use that knowledge to stop from more evil coming. This was a life he had been done leading. He had learnt how much he missed out because of this endless search for power. It never gave him anything in return. Worse, it did. It gifted him nothing but even more pain he wished to avoid. The family he had – it was still his chance for better. There were still people there, who were ready to help him. The same people he had hurt were still willing to forgive him. And he regretted harming them the way he did.

“I accepted long time ago I am more a demon in nature. But nothing could deny human blood runs through my veins too. The said demon caused nothing more but destruction for my still human heart. It promised to protected it from the harm since it’s naturally fragile but instead the demon did the exact opposite. There was one conclusion coming from that lesson. Do not trust your demon. Never rely on it. Demons are liars, Gilver. You know that.”

His opponent found that “brave” speech amusing, what he expressed through his own sneer. But his amusement did not last too long.

An inner strength began to run through Vergil’s veins. A subtle sensation, which he never felt before. A fear still raging in his mind but thanks to **that** it was easier to oppose its paralyzing effects. Arms and legs stopped shivering. A tension of his chest stayed and the urge to hyperventilate did not leave him, but that mysterious strength made them not so distractive. He was certain that was a some kind of power. A power, which Gilver could not recognize.

Finding a stable mental state helped him to stand up from the ground. He was still consumed by building up tension but the difference was it was bearable and controllable. It was less weakening him, instead it turned into a driving force against his scariest opponent.

“_The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind_.”

“You can put your message into this poetic mess but you know the truth – you should persist in what you committed yourself once.” Gilver replied.

“_Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.”_

From the Yamato another sword spawned in Vergil’s grip, which seemed to be his own Devil Sword. Apparently only summoned with Yamato itself, which worked as its sheath. It pointed out directly at Gilver indicating the fight was about to start.

“_Can I see another’s woe, and not be in sorrow too. Can I see another’s grief, and not seek for kind relief.”_ Vergil recited as if he was preparing his launched strike at rushing at him Gilver. The demon’s infuriation grew from the recited poems.

“Could you stop this babble?!” he exclaimed.

The poems spoken by Vergil were not recited just to spit on his opponent. That was a long forgotten coping mechanism learnt in his childhood. Whatever caused him fear the recited poems always eased the anxiety. And then he was unafraid enough to face what once frightened him as a little boy.

“_When a sinister person means to be your enemy, they always start by trying to become your friend._” Another line recited from Vergil’s lips as he dodged a strike launched from behind. It was apparent that specific line rose an infuriation in Gilver since it openly refered to his own offer.

His awful clone unlike his original self lost his temper rather easily. What was so infuriating that devil’s servant? Gilver could tell he would lose and he wanted to make sure that was not what was going to happen. The sneer he usually had in the past two fights was gone and replaced by a full frown and squeezed lips.

That inner power overflowing Vergil, that did not feel demonic to Gilver and it was the other thing causing his anger. Anything strengthening Vergil’s demonic power would also make him stronger too. But this thing… How can humans have any power? Power like this?

“_I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand._”

Watching his own evil clone evoke feelings tough to explain for Vergil. Gilver’s furious expressions and a gaze devoid of humanity – that was him once before, right? The majestic armor he wore – he remembered its feel to it. Its heaviness was the smallest of things to bring up while speaking of it. It felt like an unbreakable, painful chain. A torture in armor form. This view immediately brought back his worst memories of his Mundus’ service. The humiliation and constant sense of weakness.

The dark thoughts did not win with him that day. He was not nineteen year old anymore. He was not that once cocky, overly-confident teenager anymore. That was what had been responsible for his torment. That day he was different. And possessed everything he needed to not only defeat this mere servant, but Mundus himself.

Suddenly Gilver stopped his spam of launched strikes. It seemed apparent that was a strategy, which was failing him through that fight. But he would not give up that easily. Vergil’s strokes left a few nice cuts to Gilver’s surprise. Past two battles did not leave him any scratches. This one truly gave him some serious wounds. He had another plan for such possibilities. Putting a distance between him and Vergil was necessary to pull off that trick.

Gilver teleported to the back of parking area, while still having Vergil on his field of view.

“You’re indeed a skilled fighter but only one against one. How about this?” Gilver made a few moves on the air with his sword mimicking Vergil’s Yamato, causing to certain lesser demons emerge from the little space-holes. Normally such creatures would not pose a problem for somebody like Vergil. But in such a fight requiring concentration on one serious opponent? That would cause issues surely.

Yet Vergil already had a great solution for his enemy’s “smart” trick. His sneer disclosed that. Something what did not go unnoticed by Gilver himself. An unexpected smile made his infuriation rose once again.

“What are you smiling about?” Gilver exclaimed angrily.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Vergil spoke mysteriously.

His clone remained silent, only glaring at him in an angry stare. Clearly he was getting ready for another blow to happen. A blow, which was meant to surprise him judging by that unexpected sneer of someone, who had been scared to death a few minutes earlier. Surprise him? None of Vergil’s moves’ arsenal could be anything new to him. Both shared the same demonic powers accordingly to the way the spell worked. But despite this certainity something made him feel unconfident of his own position in that battle. Some power running through Vergil’s body was alien to him and hard to identify. No matter how deep he wanted to dig through his memory to find anything familiar to it, none of them felt like this. Not to mention Gilver was sure it was not in his possession this time. It seemed apparent the source of it could not be from the demon’s dimension. He hated this but Gilver was determined not to get surprised just by a mere human, who happened to be a devil’s son.

The summoned demons were not of special, tough kind. They were known for their sloppy blows and not overwhelming endurance, at least in comparison to the other species. Blood thirsty demons were always attracted by humans. No matter how much “human” someone was. Even a half human blood was delicious enough. That explained their disinterest with Gilver, who did not really ordered them to attack Vergil. They were naturally driven to that man. Devils slowly approached even if some of them were technically running at him but the distance was enough for Vergil to think of a strategy inducing his open sneer.

That day he had stopped thugs from bothering him. That had been when he had used the trick for the first time. He was able to take control of one’s mind and order them to do anything he wished. Definitely the one could not be too strong-willed to make it work. But the mindlessly running demons, which were driven by their instincts alone, seemed to fit the category. Yet the question was, how to control more than one being?

The order was made. His only gesture was a slight rise of his arm with stretched fingers and just spoke “Get him.”. To Gilvers shock they truly did. Some of the demons slowly turned around and rushed at Gilver, who was closer to get to than Vergil. The more agile ones even jumped at him lauching their clumsy blows that way. The others rammed at him to hurt him. Surely that trick was not even close to a death sentence for Gilver but definitely a great distractor he was both bothered by and strongly infuriated. How did he do it? HOW? That was what screamed in Gilver’s mind.

“The Qliphot fruit indeed has special properties.” Vergil spoke in a rather uncaring manner showing that way his certainity he is at the winning spot of that battle.

“The Qliphot’s power is mine! Yet… Why don’t I have it?” Gilver exclaimed while being bothered by the attacking him demons.

“The demon’s king can be the only one apparently.”

The sarcastic tone of that response kept Gilver tense in still growing infuriation, which was clear to read from his face alone. In some ways amusing for Vergil, an odd feeling to replace his past panic fear at his view.

“Enough of this children’s play!”

The angrily spat words were an announcement for another phase of a fight. Gilver was not out of all his cards to pull off and the incoming trick was probably saved for that troubling moment. All demonic power Vergil possessed were also his. Therefore managing to Devil Trigger should not be too surprising either. But that way he became a bit tougher opponent to fight against. His Devil Trigger was not that impressive visually from an objective point of view. It looked like Nelo Angelo in his full armor covering even his face. For Vergil that was unpleasant to see once again but this time fear did not defeat him. He remained very determined and committed to this fight.

Indeed that was the end of just a play phase of a fight, in which both opponents were just checking out their skills and taunting each other. Now the actual battle for life and death started. And similarly to Gilver, Vergil’s Sin Devil Trigger manifested to be equal to his opponents powerful blows. The spectral arms oddly similar to Nero’s were an addition to his strikes with a sword mimicking Yamato. But their attacks were not as dangerous as they seemed to be from the very beginning. Luckily they could not really be used to catch Vergil and then to start another powerful combination of blows and possible spells.

The summoned swords surely could not be ignored even if their damage power was not deadly either. But their stun potential would leave Vergil open to another unwanted blows of Gilver’s actually powerful sword. At least the unique to Vergil move of Judgement Cut was impossible to repeat by his own clone. Possibly due to a fact his sword was not Yamato, no matter how much it could look similar to it. The sword’s blows and often unexpected teleportation were the most dangerous threats for Vergil, he should avoid.

Vergil’s arsenal was also quite rich of choices. Yamato and his Devil Sword could co-exist at the same time. But Devil Sword could be stored inside Yamato in some odd ways. That way Yamato worked as its sheath.

These facts allowed Vergil to make a use of both Yamato’s power and Devil Sword’s features. Katana allowed to launch weaker but faster strikes. Devil Sword surely could not keep up with the pace of Yamato’s blows but in exchange of its higher damage potential.

And then there’s his own Sin Devil Trigger. The wings were a great feature to use for defense. But their offensive properties allowed Vergil to launch blows from safer positions, in which Gilver could not react fast enough to surprise him with an unexpected strike. Of course, such moments of surprise were not unlimited but his teleportation skills were his friend in such risky situations.

At some point, both tired of constant dodging and teleporting, drained of energy to stay in Devil Trigger state changed their strategy to direct sword fighting. The sound of their weapons clashing could be heard. The metallic, squeaky noise of swords pairing their attacks and both man staring at each other with hateful stares. Each one waiting until their opponent finally gets striked to death or ends up doing an unfortunate mistake leaving the one open to a direct stab in his heart. Who will finally win?

Without surprises in a fight surely someone would finally end up getting killed. But that not happened, at least at that moment. It looked like a meteor blowing Gilver and throwing Vergil away with it’s impact’s strength. The Yamato flew out of his hand, not so far from him it landed. In this battle trance Vergil’s first thought was to get katana back instead of even examining what even happened. What was that odd explosion? If it was really it what he thought.

From a fading dust caused by a ground crumbled by an impact a familiar figure was noticed. The horns and the wide-open wings. The brownish with red tints color pallete. That was Dante in his Sin Devil Trigger form. His sword piercing through Gilver’s chest. Still not killing him that way. Something what seemed to be acknowledged by Dante since he suddenly changed his form back to normal.

The whole scene was observed by Vergil, who did not even stand up. He was laying down on his stomach with his arm stretched to successfully grabbed Yamato. The mouth wide-open, similarly to his own eyes. At first that was surely a pure shock to see Dante but a few moments later it was both anger and controllable fear of his younger brother ruining his plan.

The blow launched by Dante left Gilver basically motionless. Too exhausted to even stand up and just moaned in pain but still pretty much alive. Knowing this Vergil took a moment to scream at Dante in anger. A rare burst of tantrum to see on him but surely absolutely justified upon the realization his all hard-work would go to waste because of Dante’s unwanted presence. Something what could make it impossible to finally break that cursed spell protecting Gilver.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Hey! I think you would need some help. I started to be worried.” Dante’s voice sounded unbothered in its typical cocky manner. As if all of this was just a funny game. “At least you can finally kill him without much effort. The guy is really stubborn to live.”

Vergil angrily pushed Dante.

“Not with you here. Your presence is unwated here. Undesireable.” he managed to compose himself at that moment, unlike just before when his voice even cracked.

“Why? All you need to do is just to stab him. On your own. I only helped you to stun him enough to do so.” Dante shrugged his arms still sounding as if he did not understand Vergil’s infuriation.

“The spell protects him from being killed with anyone’s presence on my side! So please… Leave before there will be another person to stab to death…” Vergil’s voice was not as loud and high as before but the almost growl-sounding tone disclosed a ton of stored anger about to be unleashed.

“Oh I see… Looks like that’s your theory-“ Vergil’s Yamato pointed at Dante’s chest threateningly “Trust me, brother. It won’t hurt to stab him once with me on your side. You can then stab me all day long if I’m wrong.” at that moment Dante’s voice matched up the seriousness of the situation. Something what slightly soothened Vergil’s anger and made him consider that idea. The pointy end of Yamato moved from Dante’s chest, which was rather experienced with this kind of injuries.

Vergil approached the laying Gilver. Too exhausted, damaged and stunned to be a threat. Vergil himself was also similarly exhausted and hurt despite that his wounds had been already healed. His glance stopped at Yamato first, then he looked back at Gilver’s pained expression. The katana raised what indicated the last blow to happen. Maybe just a test. Or maybe the final blow in Gilver’s life.

“You won’t redeem yourself that way.” Spoke Gilver barely capable of producing an audible speech.

He should not treat such words seriously. This was the last resort of finding strength and a sort of winning position in this ending fight. But…

“I know.” Vergil pierced the sword through his chest, probably right in the place, where his heart was still pumping. The words sounded uncaring but that was what at least Vergil wanted them to sound like.

It seemed these were the last seconds of his clone’s life. The last gasp escaped his mouth to end up with dead silence. Gilver was truly killed… But according to Vergil’s theory that could not be possible. He observed his body carefuly, watching for any signs of life remaining in demon’s body. But his death was certain when the body disintegrated just like the other dying demons do. Crumpling, turning into an odd red substance and then breaking apart. That was what remained of his current past existence.

Vergil looked back at Dante in confusion, begging him for explanation by the glare alone. But the younger brother stared astonished at Nero laying nearby. Not protected by that odd spherical, glowy shield. He run at him first hoping for the best, that his nephew was not just laying there dead. But the fortunate option happened – the boy was simply unconscious.

“Kyrie must take care of him.” Dante spoke at Vergil standing near him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Nero is back!
> 
> I think some of the parts of that fight are cheesy but so are the fights in DMC in general, right? Not like I'm trying to find excuses for my writing or something... XD
> 
> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> PS. The title of this chapter comes from that song: https://youtu.be/SIphJyry71U


	18. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later devil hunters had a little of a break from the past serious fight. A celebration took place but not for that exact reason, just because it was Nero's birthday. It seems to be a happy ending for the Sparda's men issues? If we count successfully killing another demon as one then yes. If we take account of Sparda's relatives relationship dynamic shifting during that mission - then not exactly. Not for Dante.

A few days later a certain small celebration happened. An event which took place in Nero’s flat. What was a reason for a such happening? Nero coming back alive was worth that? In some ways… too. But it was not in the devil hunters’ manner to do such things. No matter how bad the enemy, which they had to defeat, was. There was a more casual reason. Nero’s birthday.

Upon finding out Nero’s family expands over just Kyrie and Credo, Nico prepared a nice surprise gift for him to celebrate that. Something what would symbolize his blood connection with Dante and Vergil. Three amulets, which possessed unique abilities to try out. She was not specific what was that in particular. Nico told them after that gift was opened to just experiment with them to find it out themselves. But she was certain they would be found very useful in a fight.

The amulets reminded of old necklaces given once by the twin’s mother with a slight redesign to make them stand out and be a sign of a new beginning. A start of a new Sparda’s generation.

They came in packed in a single wrapped box, which was meant to be opened by Nero. Once opened, he seemed surprised by the content inside.

“Necklaces?” he spoke as his voice disclosed both astonishment and slight disappointment.

All three had proper names carved. The names of the people, who were meant to get them.

“Vergil?” Nero commented on what he saw written on one of the amulets he decided to pick up and investigate.

“Dante…? And me?” he continued.

“See… Lemme explain.” Nico started in her nonchalant manner. “One is for you. The one with your name. The rest are for your uncle and father. Y’know I just imagined that cute family scene, where you give Dante and Vergil the amulets, put them on their necks and then let, whoever you chose to do out of your twin old guys, to do the same for you. Can ya do it, Nero? Please…”

Nero went silent for a brief moment. Looked at one amulet he kept in his hand. Stared at it, as if he stopped to wonder. Then gave a small, hard to interpret smile to himself. He stood up from a couch he had been sitting on the whole time and turned himself at one of the twin brothers.

“Vergil… This one is for you.” Nero said as he wrapped the amulet around his neck to button up its endings “For finally being here after all…” he finished.

“Thank you, Nero.” Vergil responded calmly and quietly but this should not be mistaken for a sign of his stoicism and reserved attitude. He found himself both astounded and even in some subtle ways bashful in that situation.

Now it was a turn for Dante.

“And Dante…” both words sounded as if they were heavy to pronounce for Nero. Seemingly he had the need to finish that apparent unwanted moment quick. Even his gaze did not stop at his uncle’s face for too long. Instead it wandered from Vergil’s expression to Nico’s curious look. What was in this young man’s mind?

“Thanks, kid.” Dante replied, trying to make that sound in a cocky way but the awkwardness of that situation could be felt clearly from the tone of his voice anyway. The look Nero gave in return felt similar to the gazes Vergil used to pull off in the past.

“Time to decide, you said, Nico?” he spoke as if he was asking her but in truth Nero was just telling that to himself only. Thinking aloud.

A small step was taken at the direction of the one, who he found worthy of such a privilege. A young man had decided. The honor of doing so was left for his own father. Nothing unexpected to happen in normal families. But the Sparda’s bloodline was surely more complicated than that.

He handed in the last amulet, with “Nero” carved on it. In this brief moment Vergil examined the necklace he was keeping for a while. Oddly similar to the one his mother had given him as a child.

“You were… very brave. And the strength still courses through you despite the awful circumstances.” Vergil spoke as he was buttoning up the amulet around his son’s neck.

“At least you see that. Thanks.” A genuine slight smile showed up on Nero’s face as he thanked then his expression changed as he looked back at Dante.

Nero turned to grab certain things with him. Without saying a word and with serious expression plastered on his face. Then he he looked back at the others almost ready to leave.

“I apologize I gotta leave you alone for a while… Even it’s my day. Kyrie needs a bit of my help in the kitchen.” He spoke in a breathy, low manner. Sounding oddly seriously on a man, whose speeches tended to be full of sarcasm, cockiness and a sort of energy. That little announcement lacked all of these components.

“You can even cook?” Nico asked sounding both surprised but also a little sarcastic.

“Yeah, I can. As you see…” he continued speaking in a similarly cold manner. Not ready to play with Nico’s game of jokes. Such a reply felt unnerving even for her, who expected him to play along with her even if his responses were usually an angry counter. That was not what Nero was usually like.

The young man left and so the uneasy atmosphere did with him. This could not be signalized better than by Dante’s loud sigh. As if something heavy dropped from his chest. Such an reaction would suggest the legendary devil hunter would eventually bring up the topic of his nephew’s behavior. But that is not what really happened. Starting another talk about something irrelevant about the current situation was very much in Dante’s manner. And the cockiness of his voice tone covered up perfectly the previous unnerving mood.

“So, brother? How are you feeling?” his younger brother’s question did not seem to expect a serious answer to it judging by his sarcastic tone coming from it.

“Fine.” Vergil replied with anything just waiting for an actual question Dante wanted to bring up in their little conversation.

“So you defeated Gilver… And you did this even in my presence. Do you wonder how?” Dante spoke as if he was telling him a puzzle to solve. That is how his voice tone sounded.

These were the questions haunting him for the past few days. Wondering what different condition was needed to finally kill Gilver? There was nothing else he had tried to manipulate other than the others’ presence. What else was different then? The Devil Sword? But he killed him with the Yamato. He lacked ideas and instead of joining the guess game with Dante he was straightforward with this fact.

“I don’t know. But I suppose, you know how?”

Dante was prepared for his older brother joining his little puzzle and him being able to shine with mysterious knowledge he would only share with, with enough of begging from Vergil dying to know the truth. Sadly, his brother did not want to play along. Despite this the truth to share was enough to give him pleasure from shocking his brother with something rather unexpected. Perhaps something he did not want to even think of, considering it foolish.

“So…” Dante began to speak, sounding prideful for finally knowing better than his smartass brother “Gilver is dead, right? Even if I was there. Your new sword didn’t kill him. It was ‘just’ Yamato.” He took a pause. On purpose, just to make Vergil’s curiosity rise to the point of annoyance and making him say “Please, tell me, how?!”. That did not happen, probably because he himself was highly curious of his brother’s reaction, so he continued “The humanity, Vergil. This is what let you kill him.”

“It doesn’t make sense. What do you even mean?” Vergil replied confused.

“So you’re saying that the humanity gifts us just a ‘will”?”

“Well… Yamato…” Dante began to speak “Do you remember what our daddy said about it? I guess not. You were never interested in fighting as a kid. Cool times. Anyway, Yamato can separate a human and the devil from each other. It’s true for the non-demonic objects possessed by the demon energy too. And dad said that, of course, you can separate a possessed object. It will be free from it. But if the same demonic energy meets the same object again they unify. Not in a physically sense. Something makes them unseparatable. I suppose the same thing happened with you, Vergil. Your sides just unified just like what Rebellion did with me.”

The truth hit Vergil with conflicting thoughts and feelings. Most of his life was dedicated to becoming a certain being. Not an ambiguous hybrid – a meaningless concept and an entity, which cannot be fit anywhere. The death of his mother and then the other humans had proved him the fragility of that species. And the pain he had carried due to such a great loss was believed to be a manifestation of his similarly weak human part. That unbearable discomfort caused him to dedicate himself to his demonic half. Cruel and ruthless but seemingly free of such torment. A ridiculous and selfish kind but it seemed to promise a carefree life.

All of his plans leading to eradication of his humans feelings crumbled incredibly. But it had not stopped him even after he had managed to break free from Mundus’ control. It had grounded his beliefs even stronger. Humanity was a source of anything keeping him down. Everything failed him because of it. And the radical choice had been once made. Splitting himself in two by the power of Yamato. An ultimate wish coming true, which had made him to become Urizen. The true demon. The true manifestation of himself.

But even then, something odd had happened. The feelings greatly surpressed by the mighty Urizen had awoken inside him once again. The feelings of bitterness and grief of his life. The shame of being beated by his silly younger brother, who never consumed the Qliphot fruit. And then an incoming sadness of the bitter past slowly haunting him. And then a sudden rush of anger caused by the shocking him defeat. Demons should never experience such things. But he did.

V taught him living as a fragile human, unprotected by his demon half from the unwanted thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly to him it had not seemed to be as bad as he imagined it to be until that weak body was about to disintegrate once again. Yet such simple, insignificant human interactions were something he liked to experience. The care provided by Nero just for free. An act he had not experienced since the death of his mother.

It is apparent. There was no way to escape what he wanted to avoid at all cost. In fact it was not the humanity, which was a source of that torment, of that weakness. It ascends his heritage and it belongs to just himself.

As full self he could maintain the control over unwanted feelings way better. In a sense he was good at keeping power over his human fragility, when it was with him. Due to split the once kept order ended up messed up and hard to revert to what it was like before. For a reason, which he always wanted to know and his younger brother just provided him an answer.

An answer, which pointed out the silliness of his life-long efforts, which tricked him into the opposite of his deepest desires in the end. Especially the desires of the 19 year old self.

The humanity showed the weight of the crimes he had committed but at the same time it promised him not to dedicate himself to such things ever again. Perhaps if he always trusted his human heart his life would not be as full of pain and regret as it was at that moment. His life was not wasted since it was not even close to be over. The newly discovered virtue he had been ignoring for so many years was a new opportunity in his life. But at the same time a burden, which will always remind him of his awful actions of the past.

Dante’s explanation should be shocking to Vergil, made him gasp in a surprise. Surely that happened, on an internal level. Instead his calm reply masked it greatly but could be read as sadness coming through his voice more.

“I never… thought about it that way.”

“Oh, what’s the matter? You seem upset, brother.” Dante replied sneeringly.

“In a sense.” Vergil responded ambiguously, which indicated he was not upset for predictable reasons. That odd tone rose curiosity in Dante.

“What you mean by that? It’s not because you didn’t reach your goals Urizen blabbed about?”

“No.” he replied coldly, wishing to keep his reasons for himself.

“Uh, so that’s something different.” Dante spoke in a non-chalant manner, exaggerating his surprise. Vergil hated his younger brother’s mocking tone of his reply.

“Let’s say I’d prefer to achieve **this** on my own.”

“Coming to terms with humanity? You, Vergil?” Dante laughed. These were words he would never expect to hear from his older brother. Someone, whose life was dedicate to do the exact opposite.

“Yes.” The surprised reaction was faced with Vergil’s cool tone – unhappy with Dante’s sneer. It seemed apparent to Dante that was a moment he had to stop his taunts and take that situation more seriously. He never assumed Vergil would ever joke about rejoining with his humanity but Dante could not just help laughing about that sudden change of his attitude. It was just too bizarre for him to accept even if he had seen several instances of his brother’s warming attitude towards his human nature. Or at least a little more open expression of that.

“I mean, it is not certain if it’s because of Yamato. Our dad told us it effects on an inanimate object. No one knows for sure what’s like with living beings. You know.”

“Hopefully.” Vergil finished coldy without a change of his expression. Even if his face did not manage to get close to the look he once had like a year ago, when they left Hell. Seriousness of it was what remained but the coldness became basically non-existent. No matter how hard Vergil would try to pull it off.

A silence faded for a short while. Vergil found a way to redirect this unwanted attention focused on him to Dante instead. A topic, which surely was not desired to be brought up by his younger brother. But in a sense, important to move.

“I see you are not getting on well with Nero.”

Dante sighed annoyed, “You’re the one to talk! There’s no way to really approach this kid.”

“Have you even tried?”

Dante went silent since he was out of a reply, which could put him in position of someone who was right. He was not in truth.

“Well, I haven’t really.”

“Since we took care of him?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You shouldn’t be too surprised about his behavior then.” Vergil said.

“You just don’t realize how much of a pain in the ass he is when he is mad. Whenever I tried to explain him things I could expect a good stab in the chest. Unpleasant.”

Vergil chuckled.

“Maybe you should try to talk to him in a different way then. Try to apologize. Show him you care. He hates it when you show him no care.” Vergil’s face was kept absolutely serious what made his oddly parental talk look bizarre for Dante. Especially knowing who was actually giving him such advices.

“You, Vergil?” Dante replied surprised suddenly.

“What, me?”

“You’re really giving me advices for how I shoud talk to Nero? A person, who didn’t see him for years!”

“He doesn’t disclose this kind of extreme behavior to me. Maybe it’s happened once. So I believe to know better.”

The last sentence sounded almost ironically knowing Vergil’s history with Nero.

“Whatever.” Dante said. Seeing his older’s brother completely serious expression with no sense of self-awareness as he was saying all of these things made him gave up on continuing that. Perhaps that was not really lack of self-awareness, just Vergil obviously perfectly masking his knowledge he had messed up a lot with Nero, and probably desiring to start from a blank page.

A familiar figure showed up in the door suddenly. Nero, who had left the group to help in the kitchen, came back, apparently going to do the other duties. The young’s man expression remained unnaturally serious for what he is known for. Surely, it was not caused by something what happened in the kitched. That was a demeanor he kept since that one incident and it pained Dante to see his nephew that way. At the same time it was tough for him to admit his own contribution to that moment. It was simplier to just blame the kid’s bad temper for going into a fight not meant for him at all. An excuse so pretty to keep as the comfortable truth that it needed effort to snap out of it and watch that situation clearly. He was meant to be a competent adult. More experienced than this kid in his 20s. But he really was not.

He did not decide to approach because of Vergil’s suggestion. Dante could not stand that atmosphere and wished to solve it. At least try to speak to that kid. He had not said a word to Nero since the accident happened. There were several occasions he could reach out to that young man. Sometimes Nero called him himself and Dante – as total coward – always made Trish or Lady pick up a phone instead of him. And indeed, the man had the right to be pissed at his uncle.

Dante took a deep breath and put the thoughts into action.

“Nero?” he spoke.

The named man stopped and his face disclosed a little of surprise of Dante’s sudden rise of interest in his person.

“Look…” Dante sighed “I’m really, really sorry for what happened. I was… um… Scared. Yes! Scared of what would happen to you. I know I shouldn’t do it though. I was clearly in the wrong about your competence.”

“Competence?”

“Yeah, you’re actually more competent than what my dumbass brain thought, you know.” Dante started to feel a little tense. Nero did not seem to like Dante’s speech, his brows frowning were a good indicator of that.

Nero snorted sarcastically “But you still don’t care that much what happened to me, do you?”

“Oh, wait. Of course I do! But you clearly deserve an apology.”

“I never said I needed it.”

“I see that you’re thinking about all of this. I see you’re not well because of that. That’s why I thought it would make you feel a little better.” Dante said awkwardly.

“I know you don’t really want to know the real details of the consequences of your actions, Dante. You only care about yourself. You want to feel good about your sense of morality. You give no shit about me. At least be honest about it.” The anger started to arose in the young man.

“Really, what’s your problem, kid?”

“You treat me like an incompetent child. First, when we had to face Urizen. I was just a deadweight to you. Don’t you remember?” Nero said.

“That was different…”

“Let me finish. Even when I had the full power I needed you still dared to question it. And even now you still thought I was unworthy of this fight. That, it’d be too much for me. And your screaming at me would cost me a life. Despite this you only have ‘I’m sorry’ to say? No self-reflection? Nothing, Dante? What if Mundus decided to kill me? What would you say then?”

“But he didn’t.”

“But he tortured me!” Nero screamed lodly “He took me to that odd cage. Imprisoned me. Then chained me to the point I couldn’t move. I don’t know what happened next. It felt like being cut with red-hot blades through my body. Then I was scoffed for showing any signs of pain. All of that for a few hours straight! Without a way to run away! I cried your names. But no one could came to help me! You should be lucky Mundus didn’t turn me into his servant. What saved me was his unhealthy obsession with causing us pain – especially Vergil. If not because of him, I’d be another Nelo Angelo to kill for you, Dante. And at least Vergil is the only one, who acknowledges my strength.”

Dante did not realize the gravity of his actions. That was the first time he had ever heard of what happened to Nero while captured. It should not be too surprising. What should he expect from being taken by Mundus’ servant? But he could never make himself think of this. He naively thought the kid was just imprisoned. Nothing more, nothing less.

Nero’s speech caused distress in the young man. Recalling the past experiences almost brought him into tears especially when faced with someone unwilling to understand him and actually get an insight into his experiences. He was both mad and heartbroken about his fate.

Dante felt the involuntarily need to hug his nephew without saying a word but that was not what the kid wanted. No empty hugs but true understanding. The infuriation grew stronger as the grief did. The painful tension in his chest grew. Tears welled up in his eyes. He responded to that in a appropriate manner. Violently rejected his uncle’s hugs. Pushed him aside and then quickly left to hide the tears slowly leaking to his cheeks. The doors closed could be heard later.

“So this is what always happens?” Vergil spoke after watching the whole scene closely.

Dante needed a brief moment to compose himself after that unexpected course of the interaction between him and his nephew. He sighed deeply both annoyed and upset at the same time. Then he turned to Vergil to finally get the eye-contact once again.

“Well, kind of.” Dante looked down to avoid Vergil gaze.

“You both need some time.”

His younger brother let out a long sigh once again as he looked in a direction, in which Nero left the room. His eyes gazed at the floor, upset with both at himself and more at Nero. He would swear he did everything to take the best approach at this stubborn kid. And he had to acknowledge the horrible truth he contributed to.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dante sighed then wondered “Did he tell you that too?”

“What?”

“That… torture thing.” Dante’s voice lowered, trying not to think too much about that information and the possible implications coming from it. Vergil’s face had not looked surprised as he had been seeing Nero having an anger snap as he had finally spoken the brutal truth to Dante. Surely he had to know. And if yes, then why he had not said anything to Dante?

“In a way, yes.” Once again Vergil spoke as if he knew more than he wanted to say. His gaze looking down indicated that was something very unpleasant for him.

“Well, I suppose when he woke up he told you everything?”

“No, I already knew everything before that.” Vergil replied silently.

Dante felt both confused but at the same time seeing his older brother’s sudden change of a tone made him wonder about pushing him more to tell the details. He decided he had to full his curiosity first.

“What did you see? He looked fine to me when I saw him.”

“Scars.” A short answer Vergil gave. Laconic just not to dwell too much on that topic but perhaps telling enough how he had recognized what happened to Nero. As half- or quarter-demons they rarely end up with scars since they heal very fast. The look Vergil gave to Dante was rather fierce with a mix of anger and sadness, as if he was telling him to just finally stop there.

His younger brother recognized that threatening look. Vergil would probably stab him if he begged for more. It was an oddly both angry and sad look he had rarely seen on him. That did not make the Nero situation any better for Dante. He truly fucked up horribly, didn’t he? The nephew seemed to hate him. And the young man’s condition also had to take a tool on his older brother. Was that Vergil’s anger directed at him? He wondered as concerned, while getting flooded with unwanted thoughts regarding that situation. That was a moment, in which he had to cut that off.

The need to move on from that uncomfortable, stressing topic leaded him to an idea to eat some decent food Kyrie cooked for the party. That was why he came up with that idea. No need to torture himself with self-blame and anger. Nothing could be done. The time could not be reverted to the past. And maybe even Vergil needed some time off from this, he looked legitimately angered with this burning gaze focused on him. Hopefully just angry about pushing him to talk, apparently waiting for his reply in assumption Dante would ask for more, not in general – for how much he had messed up.

“Wanna eat something? This serious talk made me crave some sweets.” Dante finally spoke and observed his older brother’s reaction carefully. Yeah, he was just mad at the idea of talking more. The angry stare faded and a sort of relief could be seen on his face painting.

“I don’t mind it.” Vergil smiled a little apparently similarly willing to relieve the tense atmosphere with suggested sweets.

***

Full of sweets in their stomachs and endorphins releasing into their blood, the mood came back to its carefree form. Dante willing to have a small talk about everyday situations from the past to his older brother. And Vergil making snarky remarks about the ways his younger brother tended to handle these silly situations. Then Dante replying with annoyed “Oh come on!” most of the time.

Nero was no way to be seen around. Even it’s been almost an hour since he left the flat – as they believed. Dante shrugged it off arguing this is what his nephew usually does when he is angry – leaves for an hour and more then is back calm and more open to Dante’s comments. Vergil did not seem to be this ready to overlook this behavior and would swear he could feel oddly bad feelings manifesting inside him. A rare sensation to experience for him.

“What do you mean, Vergil? I think you probably mistake it with that cake you ate!” Dante did not take his older brother’s concerns seriously. As usual.

“It’s not this kind of feeling. I sense something… strange.” Vergil spoke as he looked around the room nervously. As if it was something he could find in this place.

“Still, what that all means? Is this a bad feeling?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Vergil began to pace nervously.

“I killed off all the demons, which Gilver left us to clean up. What’s the matter, Vergil?”

“Yamato!” Vergil pointed out at a certain empty spot.

“What? You lost it?” Dante laughed as he found the fact amusing that someone as obsessed with carrying weapons around as Vergil lost his sword.

“Yes.” Vergil responded as calmly as he could.

“Did you even take it here?”

“And left it right here.” Vergil began to wonder.

“Come on, Vergil. You always wander with this shit, poking with it all the time accidentally, and today you decided to finally leave it?” Dante scoffed his older brother.

“It’s not amusing. Someone’s taken it and is going to make a use of it.” Vergil replied coldly.

“But who did? It’s only us, Nico, Kyrie and Nero? Leave it. I guess some of them just wanted to play with it or watch it. They can’t do shit with it.”

“But… Nero?” Vergil said concerned.

„Indeed. But what can he do about it?”

“I have that bad feeling…”

“Bad feeling of what?”

“It’s the exact same one when I was about to split myself in two. And I can sense him being fierce about this idea.” Vergil’s eyes disclosed a genuine fear despite his attempts at looking composed.

“Oh shit!” Dante screamed.

As soon as he yelled that both of them rushed in search of Nero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for a cliff-hanger once again but don't worry. I have all this story finished. Just a matter of waiting for another updates. So don't worry about that fic getting cancelled at such a shitty moment. :D


	19. Protected and Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the same day when the final blow of Yamato ended Gilver’s life, the found unconscious body of Nero was taken to Kyrie. The unexpected visit and the horrible view of her loved one both shocked her and made her act on it appropriately. Examining Nero’s condition started a conversation between Vergil and Kyrie. At first, hardly anything could be extracted from this stubborn man until the gravity and importance of that situation hit him and finally made him speak as honestly as he could for Nero’s sake. With unexpected results and finish.

A few days earlier on the same day when Gilver was defeated.

The plan was certain. Rescuing Nero to his own flat with Kyrie and making sure of his current condition. What stopped the twin brothers was Gilver’s sword malfunctioning as its owner was deceased and unable to control it. Its abilities to open little gaps helping to connect the human realm with Underworld caused to demons slowly emerge through them. These openings were unstable and barely three to five demons managed to leave them before they collapsed. But the spontanousely created holes did not stop appearing. Not until something was done with the sword itself.

The new plan had to be made. Dante volunteered to destroy the sword and kill off all the demons threatening the lives of the town’s inhabitants. Vergil was meant to take Nero and take him to Kyrie with the strength of portal-opening Yamato. The intense situation did not let Vergil stop and question Dante’s idea as the groups of blood-thirsty devils started to approach three of them very quickly. His younger brother took an action quickly – jumped, making piruettes in the air, and then striking the dangerous swarm with his own Devil Sword, causing them to be thrown away all at once.

The unconscious body of Nero was layed on Vergil’s shoulder, and its weight was supported and its position corrected with one arm, while the other one wielded Yamato. The portal was opened quickly and then both of them left before the group of Empusas managed to catch up to them.

Using this kind of transport was always an unpleasant mean of travelling. It always had a company of a sense of a body cramping inside and a strange feeling of muscles weakening, which had to be only a strange sensation as it did not affect Vergil’s grip holding Nero on his shoulder. When he finally emerged through the hole created in space, from which an image of Nero’s flat could be recognized, the time for a short break was needed. A brief moment for the blurriness and daze to fade away.

He was used to it and did not have a moment to dwell on it even. Not when he carried his son’s unconscious body on his shoulder.

This short, unpleasant journey and having to carry Nero in a such rare condition to see was a moment to wonder – let the chain of thoughts lose after what he had been through. An insight about what the day had been like. Vergil would lie to himself if he claimed he was not only exhausted by that course of events but not even shaken by them. He was skilled at hiding his distress and worry after what had happened but Vergil never could do it before himself.

Gilver was dead and besides his sword malfunctioning with dangerous results, he was not a threat for anyone anymore. Despite this being a hard fact that did not stop Vergil’s concerns. This artificially made servant would have never existed if his master’s body had been long gone rotting in the deepest, unreachable levels of hell. Instead Mundus pursuited a violent, painful revenge on Sparda and his descendants.

Concern is even a rather big understatement describing Vergil’s current feelings about this. Helplessness took a big part of his current mental state, a sensation occupying his mind the strongest. There were several reasons for that. One being uncertainity about Mundus current hideout – but this was the least serious reason evoking his overwhelming sensation of weakness regarding this.

Defeating Gilver ended up successful but it would happen long time ago if not because of his odd spell protecting him from the deadly strike. Even if the spell was already broken the time needed to finally kill his oponent was way too big and the effort put too costly. Such an expensive effort to the point it was not certain what would happen without Dante’s interference. Perhaps Vergil would join Nero’s fate, like in the past. The thought of it made him shiver.

It was such a big unknown for Vergil what he could expect from Mundus in the direct fight or another intrigue implemented by him in the future. This was so anxiety inducing to think what would happen next. What to expect in the nearest future? Will this hell be finally over? He felt so weak but looking for more sources of power turned out to be a huge nonsense, a waste of time and destructive from several perspectives.

The thoughts of accepting his helplessness immedietaly resulted in lump in his throat building up. He would begin to cry if he had to dwell on this hard reality for even longer than he desired. As if he could not humiliate himself more with a behavior worthy of a helpless weakling. A brief thought was enough to upset him.

In such a possible fight he could surely count on Dante and Nero helping him but despite this, his own fear and cowardice made him so ashamed of himself. He missed the times when the perspective of final confrontation with Mundus was seen as a pleasure full of satisfaction instead of dismay with breaks for a focus on a fight. And the victory was meant to have a taste of a sweet triumph, not of a bitter relief that was finally over.

And now, such an impulsive young man as Nero had become another intriguing target of that damned demon. Vergil was unsure of what his son had been through but he did not register him having a fever or shivering. It seemed possible that accordingly to his own temper, Nero had fought til the end against overpowering him Mundus. And this unevitably lost battle had ended up with him unconscious and used against Vergil, to play with his **pesky fatherly feelings**.

Something what Gilver managed to acknowledge since he had the access to Vergil’s thoughts. Perhaps that was what saved Nero. That “cliché” power of love, which was weaponized against his father. Even if Vergil never outright admitted to his feelings and he himself believed it to be nothing more than a liking for this child. A rather natural attraction what was his, he always thought.

That flood of thoughts, which he was so absorbed by, had to be stopped as soon as he finally made it to the place of destination. Nero’s home, in which he hoped for Kyrie to help or simply take care of him. Vergil expected getting many questions coming from his future daughter-in-law. The idea of this of explaining all of that felt very exhausting already but hopefully she would be interested in Nero mainly.

Kyrie was not aware through that time what had been really happening. She knew about a powerful demon, which needed to be defeated through Nero’s talks. Especially anger-induced ventings about Dante’s doubts of his strength to join the battle. That was the last time she had spoken to him and knowing that he was out in the different town for a few days that did not cause her to be that much concerned. Not to mention the fact their last contact through the phone happened this early morning.

As she used to do during late evenings Kyrie was focused on spending her free time. Not working with the children or wondering about the future duties to do. That day she ended up reading – nothing specific to her. Perhaps a book recommended by Nero some time ago, which seemed to be even his father’s favorite.

She did not expect any visitors, nor anyone coming back and the noise of Vergil’s steps concerned her. That made her leave her bed quickly just to notice both Vergil and Nero laying unconsciously on his shoulder. She gasped at that terrifying her image – both her father-in-law’s and her loved one.

The first noticeable thing was Nero, whose face seemed to be covered in both dirt, little already healed cuts and bruises. Vergil did not look better, his hair being fallen down contributed the most to that interpretation. These silverish white hair covered most of his forehead and kept only some parts of his brows and eyes visible. Hair covered in dirt, dust and dried blood - tough to distinguish if it was from his own wounds or Gilver’s. Green eyes looking lively thanks to their color alone but that could not hide his extreme exhaustion from a day, which truly pushed him to his own both physical and mental limits.

“We have to lay him down on a bed. He needs a rest.” Vergil spoke while sounding visibly tired.

She moved from the door’s frame to let her father-in-law enter the room quickly and do what he had said. In this calmer atmosphere, free from demons attacking out of blue, he could take a better look at his son. But even when he held him Vergil did not feel him shivering or getting a fever. The only unknown for him were more visual clues, which could add something more to Nero’s condition. Aside from typical fight marks nothing more was seen by Vergil. Nothing from this image caused a concern for his life. After all, Nero was not entirely human and his healing factor made sure he would survive even the worst of wounds easily. Despite this knowledge Kyrie insisted on checking his body, to make absolute sure of his condition.

Vergil was too exhausted to join Kyrie in that examination. Nero’s condition was stable – that was the most important thing confirmed for him. Any broken bones or serious wounds did not concern him knowing they were already healed and fixed. Despite this knowledge shared by Kyrie, she still wanted to make sure everything was alright. This is something she always did even to Nero’s own annoyance if he felt too exhausted for this kind of care. Whenever he was back from tougher missions she insisted on checking him out. Sometimes her excessive concerns had turned out to be rightful as she had managed to discover a few spikes stuck in Nero’s body. Spikes, which were toxic despite the inhuman healing factor. These were times Nero had to appreciate his girlfriends gut feelings, which rarely failed him.

Vergil trusted Kyrie with that even if he found her solicitude annoying sometimes. Especially when it was focused on him, just like the last time they talked. And that did not turn well for both of them.

What was desired the most by this extremely tired man was to just take a rest. Of course not when Kyrie would wanted him around as she was checking Nero. A little annoyed by this he sat on the nearest armchair. He stretched out his sore legs, and put his similarly pained arms. That day pushed him to his own limits both physical and mental. Dealing with almost overwhelming tension and emotions caused by several factors. Close to panic attack mode making him almost unable to breath and move properly. Watching his true nightmare manifested waiting for him to kill him. Dante coming to the rescure and almost ruining his plans he had worked on so hard as he had believed then. Helplessness being a feeling he hated to accept as something he truly experienced about Mundus. Then the uncertainity of his own son’s condition, which seemed to be proven to be fine. The long sigh he let out could not express all of that emotional rollercoaster he had gone through. It felt in a sense relieving all of that was over and he could sleep on all of it in a moment.

As usually Kyrie dealt with Nero whenever she suspected he needed to be checked, she took off the upper part of his clothes leaving him bare chested. The image she saw – both causing a worry but at the same time confusion of what she was actually watching at that moment. This naturally caused her to call Vergil for help with identifying it.

“Vergil?” she called him sounding concerned.

The man was almost asleep in that armchair so the voice suddenly calling him caught him off guard and after a while finally responded with a proper reaction.

“What’s the matter?”

“I think you have to take a look.” she said with a voice showing a degree of worry. That both interested and concerned Vergil, a little anxious curiosity forced him to stand up and approach to the bed.

That view he saw, was the one he would probably never forget.

For someone unfamiliar with it, it looked as scars from the cuts made by blunt blades or red hot blades. They were reddish and and slightly curved upwards as if they were swollen. There were many of them on Nero’s body. Chest, arms, hands and even his neck. These were not deadly wounds, perhaps more serious since they did not healed yet, but Vergil was aware they would go away in a few days. How did he know it?

It was what his own body looked like as an imprisoner of Mundus. An effect of his experiments and amusing him torture, pleasing him to see a descendant of Sparda suffering.

A very vivid flashback appeared just before him, remembering not only how he was watching his bare arms wounded like this in disbelief and shame. The soreness coming from them was hard to forget. It felt him having burning coals attached to the arms, hands, a neck, chest and back. Painful to the point of being incapable of doing comfortable moves and desiring to stay motionless until these wounds would heal. That pain did not stay on the surface. It went deeper giving a sensation as if his own muscles were burning, aching to the point he would swear he would pass out if he moved his arms even by a little. Unfortunately, Mundus could not avoid that opportunity to cause even more torment. He enjoyed forcing him to fight against demons he had sent after him. Vergil was able to kill one or two of them before the unbearable pain made him pass out and being bitten by the same demons. In results being sucked out of blood, which made him feeling ever weaker not only to move freely but to even heal himself effectively.

That was a very intense memory almost hard for Vergil to differ from the present time but he managed to snap out of it as Kyrie began to ask him a question in desperation and concern raising in her voice what that meant for her loved one. The expression he unwillingly made had to worry her a lot about Nero. But the thing was, there was no reason to worry for his well-being. And that was what Vergil decided to tell her.

“He’s wounded… But it’s nothing serious. He’ll heal from it in a few days.”

_Nothing serious_. In a sense, strictly physical one that was the technical truth. But the other side of the truth was not that trivial. And he could barely comprehend the information he was slowly gathering. Nero being tortured? Foolish of anyone to believe, Mundus would not take an opportunity to do anything to Sparda’s kin, but it was easier to believe Nero was just imprisoned, without anything more done to him. If he had not become the other servant and had been used as bait for Vergil then what would have been a point of this?

“Is he really fine?” she asked once more. Vergil’s expression, which shown a sort of shock, did not convince her about his answer. Perhaps as usually whenever his words did not match up his subtle facial expressions and change in his tone. But this time all of that was not even subtle.

“I told you, he is.” Vergil replied with his voice slightly growling in annoyance and a bit of hard breathing exposing his actual feelings. An odd tension growing both in his chest and a throat. That making him swallow and clear his throat.

Perhaps he was right, Kyrie thought. Nonetheless, seeing Vergil knew more than he told, she decided to ask about the details. The wounds on Nero’s body could not be anything trivial like a sort of battle scars from fighting Empusas. Kyrie had never seen him like this before and she was certain that involved Gilver.

“What are they from? Is this Gilver related, Vergil?”

“Yes.” he replied in a breathy voice.

“His sword did this? Was Dante right?”

“No.”

Once again this tiring Vergil’s game Kyrie could not really stand. It was always tolerable when he used it in non-serious situations. Moments when the attention was focused on him and he did everything to dodge the true answer everyone including her insisted on. Giving up on getting the real response felt disappointing but nothing was really lost that much. Vergil was entitled to his secrets and keeping everything to himself even if at the cost of his well-being. But this time it was not a matter of him this time. Vergil kept something what was important for Nero’s case and Kyrie could not suck it up that easily.

“What happened then? There is something you’re not telling me, Vergil!” she was done trying to guess what was in Vergil’s mind what he was hiding.

Her voice raised to his own surprise, snapping him out for a while from his own feelings. She could not be fooled that easily and while rarely experienced, Kyrie despised being treated in a such ignorant manner. She understood Vergil hated to move hard, unpleasant topics but at that moment not everything was revolving around him and his own issues. Nero’s sake mattered the most and his father’s facial expression did not manage to hide the serious implications of his condition. The gaze he had for a brief moment looked truly terrified. Hard thing to just move on from.

He had to tell the actual truth, didn’t he? And for a good reason. A very good one. For so many years, nearly two decades, Vergil could have only counted on himself in a fight against his nightmares and effects of this torment. Perhaps he never deserved getting anyone’s help. Perhaps he deserved this fate – after how much blood his selfish, ruthless actions had spilled. Perhaps he did not deserve what Dante did to him – that day when his familiar fought the last heroic battle for his peace of mind. Not after what Urizen had done.

He knew speaking openly about what he had gone through to describe what Nero had experienced would do nothing good to himself. Already feeling his heart shattering as he thought of talking about this. But it felt more important to set aside his own sense of pride for once and think of someone else. At the same time he realized that Kyrie was the safest person to speak to the way he was about to.

“The fight didn’t go well as we wanted. Without going into details, Gilver captured Nero and took him to Mundus. He is very much known for what he did to us and is dedicated to eradicating Sparda’s bloodline.” he took a pause to prepare himself for the worst part he had to bring up both to hear for Kyrie and speak about for him “Mundus tortures Sparda’s kin he gets. And me being a… prime example of that. Experienced that on my own flesh and mind. The same happened to Nero. And his wounds are an effect of that… Unimaginable pain leading him to be unconscious just by doing any movement. They will heal soon. But what’s in the mind… it’s another story…” he became silent for a brief moment, appearing to be more and more shaken about all of this “Just make sure to soothe his nightmares. Please. Both on day and night. Despite of how horrible they are he will feel… **protected**… and **loved** that way.” because his own could never been relieved through many years.

All of these words coming through his mouth shocked her deeply. Terrified her with the unexpected course of events. They both had talked through a phone of that day’s morning. And now she was hearing that during that time spent clueless about Nero’s fate, he had been cruelly tortured. Everything she had heard was unbelievable. Hard to accept as the truth.

Shame was another feeling joining his emotional storm. He turned his face off Kyrie’s and put his head down – avoiding that woman’s gaze and to have that short moment for himself only, that one second to compose himself. But when it started it coud not be stopped. As if he lost all strength, which he always had, whenever such “accidents” happened. As if it was stronger than him. He squized his lips and even his eyes to stop that unexpected flood falling all over his cheeks but it only made everything worse and messy.

“Miserable” and “Foolish” had to be the words describing Vergil in Kyrie’s mind, he guessed. Yet it stopped concerning him and the overwhelming pain became a spot of his attention. The pain, whose reasons he was unable to count and point out easily, but he was already reassured his tears were not pointless – not just a pitiful weakness. The whole day, all these years as if met each other at this one point and their weight, their burden was too much for him to hold anymore.

Kyrie could not just stay there doing nothing. Even if she knew the man before her was usually highly averse to providing him help and support. Usually a very arrogant gentleman full of self-pride, which hid what he feared the most to be seen by the others. And the speech perhaps was a proof of why he avoided this kind of talk so much. The desperation for care from the others was inside the man but repressed it to avoid risks of being dependent on the others. Avoiding a risk of having his heart broken once again by losing what he loved dearly.

She had to take an action regardless of Vergil’s say on it but no one would expect one from somebody as shaken as him at that moment. Kyrie wrapped her arms around the man into a hug. She invited him that way to let it all go into her shoulder. Vergil would not go this far to sob into someone’s shoulder but for the first time every he appreciated such an offer. His arms wrapped around her and just let his tears fall and let a few sobs come up from his throat until he felt calm enough to free himself from this supportive hug.

The foolish face he had, with cheeks red and wet from that sudden storm of his mind, did not stop him to look at Kyrie once again, genuinely smile and say:

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wondered about posting this chapter at all worrying it’s heavily out of character. Maybe it is but despite this I felt like Vergil just deserved this bit of catharsis.
> 
> He has gone through a lot, trying to keep it cool til the very end and everyone has their limits. No matter how strong they seem to be, they will finally reach their limit. They need to let it all out sometimes to feel better and stronger, to have a some kind of “reset” or to have the strength to realize something. 
> 
> He had to see he has people’s backs like Kyrie’s or Dante’s and that he isn’t “foolish” by doing so as he strongly believes.
> 
> Update on 21.02.2020: Well something went fucked up as I posted that chapter at the very beginning and a very big part ended up cut for unknown reasons. I fixed that and you can enjoy Vergil's angst even more. ;)


	20. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twin brothers found Nero doing the incredibly forbidden action, which seemed to be out of his control. As the plot continued afterwards... Vergil and Nero managed to finally have an honest, good talk together. Like a father and his son should do long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn I really finished that fic. I find it honestly incredible I really did it... For the first time ever.

In the current time, the men were desperately searching for Nero, whose theft of Yamato had strong implications for highly dangerous consequences. What should anyone expect from a mad quarter-demon, who felt insulted about doubting his strength? Yamato was once his source of power and he surely wished to reclaim it at all cost. Sadly, he would not be able to have fun with that weapon for too long. Not when its original owner was alive and would never give it to anyone so unexperienced with using it like his son.

It was a matter of luck for them to find Nero. He was found on the other room – his own. The violently opened door introduced a very stressful image, making a sudden rise of adrenaline to release in both of half-demons. There was no space to think, just do anything.

Yamato was risen and held with two hands by Nero. The end of a blade was pointing out at his chest. The man seemed to struggle with doing that one confident swing, which could pierce through his chest and start the desired ritual. The struggle did not come from physical barriers, it happened in his mind. Despite the urge, something was stopping him. He was very unsure about that idea, but that did not stop him from his attempts.

As the door opened loudly, it was a matter of a second when Yamato was gone from his hands. It was taken by his father, whose moves were so quick that only a dark blue mist could be seen in a place of his presence as he rushed to grab his weapon. Some people would believe the man could not be moving this fast, he had to just turn into a mist. He was finally seen beside Dante, both standing near the door.

A proper reprimand was usually a parent’s talk but it was Dante who was the most willing to take that task, as he felt too infuriated to even let Vergil to start first. It was very rare to see Dante this angry, so angry that taking a form of a devil was barely controlled by him - his eyes looked truly terrifying – burning red. Was not Qliphot massacre enough for Nero to never even consider doing such a stupid thing?

Dante’s nearly turned arm, grabbed Nero’s in a painfully strong grip, the claws slightly going through his skin, making it bleed, pulling the young man near him, making him look at his eyes. He was clearly done joking and extremely maddened.

Being violently turned around this way angered Nero too but Dante’s borderline berserck mode made him give up on any ideas of fighting back or insulting him. Even if his uncle’s claws made him bleed just accidentally, he did not dare to test Dante’s patience and just stared shocked at him. This was probably the first time he had ever seen his uncle this mad. Sarcam was the furthest level of his anger he had ever achieved.

“Do you want to destroy the world too, you fucking fool?” Dante angrily spat that – growling loud. His voice was already distorted by his currently high-level demonic energy running through him, giving him an even more threatening image.

Nero could not bring up any good reply to that. A mixture of anger, grief and helplessness filled his mind. He felt like he could not fight back as he usually could do against Dante. The overwhelmingly powerful demonic energy Dante manifested made him feel even more weak than before. What could he tell him? Beg him to admit to his mistakes?

Tears welling up in Nero’s eyes softened Dante’s anger but just enough to finally look a bit more human looking. Young man still tried to resort his strong image, staring angrily at his uncle and trying to hold back his tears by squizing his lips from time to time. No, _he could not cry like a little bitch once again_.

Dante took a big sigh to calm himself down and started speaking a little softer.

“Why did you take it? Did you forget what happened before?”

“If I have to beg for respect I’d rather do this… but… I knew this was not the good way! But this felt stronger than me… I really desired getting this. Getting more power from it.”

“You would start another bloodshed! Millions of people dead once again! For what? Because you are mad at me?” Dante screamed angered by his nephew’s explanation. _Ehhh, why is Dante always a reason for his relatives starting an apocalypse?_ _This is getting exhausting_.

“Dante is right. This is a very foolish path. You’re acting incredibly immature now, young man.” Vergil finaly took a voice as he approached closer to his son.

“You too?” Nero responded disappointed that he did not even have his father’s back.

“If Dante isn’t the best one to judge, I, who started this hell, can tell you this went too far, Nero. It’s the worst thing you could do. This is one of my biggest mistakes I have ever committed.”

Nero had nobody’s support at that moment. His uncle scolded him violently, showing his overwhelming strength over his – _this had to be done to prove how weak he is_! And then even his father, who always trusted his strength, joined Dante’s opinion on it – _that was a betrayal_! He was done with all of their talks, scolds and sneer. He ran into a door, pushing Vergil aside to make a space to leave. The upset young man was gone, and the twin half-demons similarly upset and puzzled.

Dante had his look focused on a floor, where a few drops of Nero’s blood could be seen. This was an uneasy image to see and he regretted reacting this violently the way he had done. He paced around it to gather some comprehend and calm words to finally take a voice. What could have he done better in that situation? Maybe let Vergil talk first?

Vergil stood in a place, similarly experiencing an uncomfortable feeling of how the situation unfolded. His gaze was wandering around the whole room as if in a search of something. It looked like he was trying to make a certain choice and having trouble with picking up that one. In a way he was not surprised what happened seeing the similarities to his young self in Nero. At least the young man still had anyone to care for to refrain from his actions, which manifested as his struggle at even starting the known ritual.

It would not be true to say Vergil saw Dante’s reaction as inadmissible but he was in a way shocked to see his younger brother to turn this angry and violent to the point when he had a hard time with stopping himself from taking the devil form. That was something Vergil himself had never really experienced but perhaps just because he had no reasons to supress the urge to turn while mad in the fights.

The intense feelings bubbling in Dante were tough to count but the most prominent ones were helplessness, disappointment and anger. What happened could not be fixed – the moment, which just took place nor the previous attempt at talking to Nero, which had leaded to this shitfest. Making up with Nero felt almost impossible to reach for him no matter how much effort he would put. It gave an impression it would not make any difference to put all the power he had or not to calm this kid down and prove to him how much he regretted his actions. Even the tears had been shed once when he had believed Nero could have been gone for good.

Dante was powerless about this. He finally spoke to Vergil without making an eye contact, sounding irritated.

“I’m done. Do what you want, if you’re even planning to do so. I’m outta here to have a good drink.”

He was not waiting for a reply or a comment. That was just an announcement for what he was about to do next and after that he turned in a direction of the door, leading him to the corridor.

“Are you giving up so quickly?” Vergil replied behind his back.

Dante snorted painfully.

“So you have a good advice to give? What am I supposed to do here? Shoot hateful glances at each other with him? I don’t feel welcome here anymore, Vergil, and I just want to leave here myself. I’m not suggesting you’re going to be sad about it but I’m used to it. I’ve done this a few times before when this kid had one of these days as a teen. I just didn’t waste my time and came back when the kid was a functional adult once again.”

There was more pros for Dante leaving than cons. Nero would not forgive him that easily and begin to see him as his role model and a good uncle once again. Deep inside that was a painful truth to admit for Dante no matter how much he tried to scoff that in his own inner monologue as a “kid going furious once again”. But this time Nero had a very strong basis for that, in which Dante was the guilty one. He did not want to dwell on it any longer, despite these thoughts popping up compulsively in his mind. Only a could drink would distract his attention from them.

Vergil let his younger brother pass him to finally reach the corridor and from there leave through the front door. Dante’s expression disclosed clear pain and sadness covered with an angry mask. Nothing more could be done. At least not in the same way as so far. It was not desired to let Dante leave this humble birthday party but for both Nero and him that was the best compromise.

…

Nero’s leaving scene was so dramatic, the young man thought as he was contemplating an image he saw from the balcony. That was the only place, in which being alone with himself would not feel so pathetic like hiding in a bathroom as kids tend to do or some adults. All of this had gone too far for him. Not necessary Dante’s scolding or Vergil’s additional comment to his younger brother’s words was what he considered this time as what the limits of the accepted for him norms.

The calming view of the town below him had a clear soothing effect. It arose the same emotion he had felt when the Qliphot apocalypse had been over and everything had gone relatively back to normal. There had been a degree of relief from the constantly eating him feeling of helplessness, which could not leave him for a moment. Not when he had seen people dying before his eyes while the Qliphot’s roots pierced through their bodies or when he had watched their corpses turning into a dust. A depressing image in addition to his loss of his arm even if replaced by powerful arm gadgets.

But they could not hide the fact how humiliated he had felt for getting his arm ripped off by a weird stranger. Perhaps it was better he had never known he was his own father. The guilty one had been always near him, just tricked him into thinking Urizen and the odd fellow in a cloak were the exact same people, and V was just a man, who happened to know everything. Why had he never thought that had clearly implied V’s relation to Urizen? Well, that was a great topic for some deep wondering alone but reserved for another moment than this.

All of this – that peaceful image, it brought that one certain realization. Nero would have almost destroyed it once more through the same means. Even if Qliphot was out of anyone’s reach anymore but how irresponsible that would have been to let his demon half go free? Especially under such a strong emotion as he was at that moment. Who knows if creating such a being from the darkest thoughts becomes the most evil and dangerous creature that way. But he had not thought of this then. Not when the edge of Yamato had been almost touching his chest.

Think first, then do – this was not what described Nero’s behavior. Perhaps Dante was right, he started to wonder. His impulsive behavior could be rightfully not trusted. But it was not what his uncle brought up all this time. He had been questioning his **strength**! How could Nero not find it insulting? How could he not react to it with appropriate anger? Dante had been always so smug about his own skills! But perhaps… This hot temper was something Dante considered while questioning his power. Maybe…

No demon could annoy him this much as Dante. Any ugly devil with a disgusting smirk plastered on their faces could tell him the whole essay on why Nero is just a weak human with no power, without anything to offer. But who would give a shit about it when in a few seconds Red Queen pierced through their almost decaying bodies and the demon could only cuss and moan while shocked to be killed off by a mere “mortal”?

But Dante’s words tended to be oddly proven right. _No, he makes them true!_ Nero either ended up indeed captured, waiting for Dante’s rescue or defeated by an enemy he was constantly warned of by his uncle. He had thought the chain of self-fullfilling prophecies were over when he had managed to stop Dante and Vergil from killing each other and had proven his strength to his own father. That was a moment when all of this “dead-weight” talk could go back to trash. But now… Dante was once again proven right.

There was such a strong aversion to agreeing with Dante despite so many evidences. So many moments pointing out that… indeed… there was something lacking. A strength? The power? He was troubled with accepting his weakness, he did not feel weak. He was…

“_You’re just too impulsive, Nero._” Nero would swear he could hear Vergil saying these exact words to him, almost hearing the exact same voice in his mind. That was probably the exact issue. The reason for his failures. Not weakness but…

“_Hot-temper. You need to learn to control it._” The other random observation Nero could notice in his mind. Oddly standing out among the other of his inner monologue.

“_There is a lot of strength but it needs to be properly handled._” The pondering adding more interesting, uplifting thoughts continued. Hard not to agree with your own inner commentary but Nero had the odd impression of them popping up in his mind suddenly. As if they did not really belong to him, in a way. Oddly uncommon for his natural thought process. Perhaps attempts at thinking rationally not purely emotionally for once simply did not feel natural for him, Nero thought.

Somebody’s presence could be felt a few moments later. In a frame of balcony’s door a familiar figure appeared – wearing black, with katana near his tight. Obvious who was standing there. That was a rather unexpected visitor and Nero was unsure if it was a welcome one as he was not done silencing his intense emotions yet. Vergil’s face did not disclose contempt nor pity for his son past behavior – it was quite a neutral face hard to interpret. And Nero had used to hope Vergil’s warming up to his own humanity would make him easier to read.

“We can talk if you wish.” Vergil tried to find an eye contact with Nero, who was still uncertain of forming one or cutting it off completely. The storm was still present in this young man but he had a hard time directing it at anyone or anything. The blame moved from Dante to something unspecific and he was desperate to locate it somewhere and still hated to admit his own flaws could be also responsible. He was at loss of who to blame for all of his current hardship. Who was to blame for what he had gone through **tortured**?

“No one is to blame for it.” Vergil suddenly spoke. This was such an odd reply. Nero had not commented on what was on his mind at that moment. Was Vergil making a commentary to what happened in general or referring to what he was just dwelling on himself?

“Is there even anything to talk about? No one is to blame? I thought Dante knew that was all his fault!” Nero’s voice sounded angered, raising slightly. All that suggested the talk could easily turn into another argument.

“Do you think he wanted you to end up like this?” Vergil spoke softly.

Nero was certain the answer for this was “No”. Dante tended to be infuriating and insufferable sometimes but he could not say behind all of his talk was a malicious intent. So he spoke that one word with his voice lowering into that sadder tone.

“You’ve gone through a lot of torment. But just don’t turn it into a bigger one with the others unwillingly invited to it.”

He knew. Nero had concluded that as he had been watching this calm image seen from the balcony and he could not help feeling guilty about almost disrupting this all over again. Vergil’s talk to him seemed to go into a personal direction. Purely willingly on his father’s part, what he found also interesting him. Hopeful to say at least. He was worried to make Vergil more reserved in his replies with the following question he had to tell. It would be direct, but who would give him a better advice for that topic?

“How did you deal with it? These nightmares of what happened to you. After it ended.”

That was a dangerous zone to go into. Vergil could cut off that talk very quickly from that moment. What would happen next then?

The answer was rather known to Nero. Not specifically in full details from its beginning til the very end but effects were felt… even drastically when his arm was ripped off from his joint. The Qliphot fiasco was nothing else but a prime example of how not deal with your nightmares.

In a way Vergil found himself amused with a reply he had to give to Nero’s innocent and clueless sounding question. The details of bringing Urizen to life were not so clear for his son and it was always believed this awful creation was just a fruit of his desperate need for power. The need to live, the need for power and the need to be free from nightmares – these were the actual reasons accumulating.

“Badly.” Vergil smiled to himself but not in a joyful way.

The smile, which confused Nero not knowing its meaning for his father but it did not look like being content with the failure of his attempts or any of their results.

“But for now…” he continued without sarcastic smile he pulled off earlier “I think it’s properly handled.”

“Well, Dante killed them off…”

“They were terrifying visions. Not true nightmares. True nightmares… they are not only visual. Yamato can’t cut through these.”

“So what do you do now? I don’t see you doing much…” Nero spoke sounding disappointed about something he expected to hear but did not get what he wanted.

“Having a company seems helpful.” He said “And support.”

“I have these and still can’t sleep at night.” Nero sounded annoyed “Will this ever go away? At all?”

“The memories won’t leave you but you will learn to deal with them. They will… become more distant with the time… As long as you face them. I never faced them. I just pretended I don’t have them.”

“So, you can normally sleep now?”

“For a while, yes.”

“To be honest… Kyrie always manages to help me with this. Perhaps something about what you said is true… I just can’t forget this pain. It’s so hard without her presence sometimes and she can’t be with me all the time.”

For a brief moment Vergil replied with nothing more but not because he felt that was a moment to end this conversation. His gaze focused on that distant scenery for a moment as if he was forming a decision of telling something more. Wondering how to put in words what he was about to say.

“It was easier to forget for a moment all of this at some point for me.” He started while still having his look stuck on a sky“ I felt like I had nothing more left after defeating Dante. No purpose. No point. Just me and my ultimate failure even with winning against Dante. It sounds foolish but at some point of this battle I realized my victory against him would not fill that empty void. But I could not let him win. I could not let myself lose even once more. And then there happened to be you standing between us in the middle of this pointless fight. I have a son, I realized. A son, who is determinated to have a family. Strong enough to prove himself to me what he is capable of. That was a light in this meaningless wandering for… I have no idea even what for now. This is **hope**. **A reason to come back from Hell**.” 

That unexpected stream of heartfelt talk left Nero speechless unprepared for such a reply. Such a confession to hear from… the man, who is supposed to be his father but had never took that role in his early life. The man, who had ripped off his arm but… due to these unclear circumstances at that time, he felt now guilty of commiting such an atrocity against his own kin. The man, whose desperate action of saving his life, unleashed a horrible destruction upon the city but he had made sure to save what was left and ensured to stop from such things happening ever again. The man, who had left him once again but had promised to come back and he had really done that.

As Vergil was speaking a subtle but bright smile could be seen forming on his face. A different one from that bitter, unhappy smirk he had made to himself while admitting to failing at coping with his own torment. Even the eyes sparkled from a kind of inner joy, he had experienced by finally opening up.

Was Nero his reason? His reason from starting from the very beginning? His reason to try to be a better person than he used to be?

Vergil saw that confusion on his son’s face – somewhat he expected that to happen and wondered what would be his say on it. This was a risky move. It could be easily thrown away, rejected as untrue, as fake. After all, he was not in his life for too long but despite this fact that was Vergil’s true reason for continuing. He was ready for that rejection. It did not mean accepting his confession did not matter to him at all. That was just a long-life habit to be ready for such things. For disappointment, betrayal and failure.

No words would be appropriate for such a thing. No quotes from a poetry book. No naturally formed next honest speech against the previous one performed. It felt so uplifting and heartwarming to hear he is someone’s reason for getting better. That he is someone’s source of joy. That he was not actually that alone without Kyrie.

Nero did not even stop to reconsider or think twice about it and just suddenly, stood up and wrapped his arms around Vergil – clearly surprised. For a brief moment Vergil froze in confusion, just realizing what was actually happening, what was his son doing. Strange to be hugged not out of pity for him but as a gratefulness. That hug was tight, warm and full of emotion. Was this really happening? Nero doing this? His own child? The heaviness in his chest dropped and joy filled him for having his confession accepted. A wide smile formed on his face and warmly hugged Nero back.

…

After a while, when they went back inside the apartament to Vergil’s surprise, Dante showed up to be still there. Or maybe he had left but then had come back? Was he already drunk? Definitely not. The smell could have been felt even in the balcony already. His younger brother seemed quite sober, less angry and looked like he had had a good thought trip when he had been out.

Nero on the other hand once again did not feel too pleased but not as angry as earlier. The annoyed glance was shot by Nero but immediately hit with Dante’s saddened expression upon seeing him. Dante never wanted nor wished what had happened to him, right? This was that kind of look of regret but also helplessness about fixing the past. Of course you cannot go back in time to educate your dumber self.

Nero still remembered having his wrist legitimately hurt when Dante pulled it with his claws. The wounds had already healed but the memory of this made his wrists feel itchy.

Nero was not too quick to forgive but he started to probably understand… Understand Dante’s reasoning, seeing what he had been thinking. Too early to accept an apology but Dante was found more tolerable. After all, a whole family was something he had always desired and did not want it to break apart. His own struggle with the nightmares would get worse by pushing everyone aside. Especially someone, who never wanted to do it intentionally and was always around him – even if he could not talk about their relation then. To show that he approached him and finally spoke to him first.

“You know? I start to see your point. It makes sense. But that wasn’t nice. Not at all. But we are still a family and I’m starting getting tired of this. We’ll find the time to resolve this later. Now, just let’s celebrate this day together. As a family.” His voice sounded serious but also a little cocky in his natural manner. It felt better to hear Nero sounding like this instead of listening this boy turning into another _Vergil wannabe_ for Dante.

Dante’s lips squeezed as if he was prepared for something bigger to say and immediately stopped himself. Probably that was meant to be the next attempt at apology but he agreed. That should be done later, especially when the kid finally started to see more reason than emotionally driven conspiracy theories. It felt like something heavy dropping from his chest at that moment. He was once again welcome to be seen.

“Well, yeah. That talk can wait for another moment. Today we should enjoy what we finally have. After all these years, we’re finally reunited.”

“Maybe there is something I can present to you. Something what definitely bonds us together regardless of our differences at this moment.” Vergil took a voice, sounding like having an offer. What could this man show – both Dante and Nero clearly wondered interested, indicated by their gazes focusing on Vergil standing behind their backs in the distance.

“I hope it’s not gonna be another stupid tree, Vergil.” Dante sneered.

That was not amusing for Vergil and his contempt forming on his face could not express that better. Nonetheless, that did not refrain him from doing what he planned to do.

“I need to leave for a moment to get what’s essential.”

Dante’s brow rose a little wondering what his older brother was planning.

“Oh, right. We’re gonna surely wait.”

How long that moment would take? Five minutes? Ten? Long enough to Dante and Nero starting fighting each other? None of these. That did not require Yamato to get things done so fast. Suddenly Vergil showed up with an instrument in his hands. A violin perhaps – Dante and Nero were not that good at identifying and labelling such things correctly. Strange image. Perhaps he wanted to show a new Devil Arm? Some of these like to take the form of known human objects. In a way a subtle demonic energy could be felt running through that instrument he was carrying. Maybe that was a good clue.

“So you found a new Devil Arm and never told us, Vergil?” Dante spoke in his natural cocky manner.

“It’s not a Devil Arm.” Vergil replied laconically.

“I don’t think any other objects can have such a strong demonic essence like this… thing.” Dante noticed as he approached closer and the energy filling that instrument could be felt very clearly.

“If you pour yourself into such an object, this is what happens.” Vergil spoke.

“Oh well, Mr. Mystery guy. What are you doing to this violin then? Black magic?”

“What can you do with this wooden piece of a human instrument? Play on it, Dante…” His younger brother’s cocky replies annoyed him a little.

“Oh. Still interesting how much demonic energy it absorbed anyways.” And finally Dante took Vergil’s speech seriously regarding these details as he started observing that object more carefully. It look like any different human object but the energy coming from it radiated strongly with a kind of demonic essence. Can just the usage of that violin fill it with demonic power? An idea worth a good ponder.

“Indeed interesting.” Vergil said himself intrigued but apparently lacking a good explanation of why such a phenomenon occurs.

“Alright so what’s going to bond us together then?” he asked but then snorted at a certain realization “Don’t tell me you will play us a song on this? Have you ever had any different passions than the one for power?”

The mention of his past pursuit of power always caused him that odd ache located in his chest. Almost like being stabbed by a blade. Quite upsetting to have this brought up all the time but in a way he had to agree this was what he was associated with and always would be. He was guilty of this.

Anyways after coming back to functional life, which was not dependent on obsessive search for power, he rediscovered what he had rejected from his childhood. This felt a little childish for him to find so much joy in any kind of art – written one, musical one or visual one – but he could not help himself from that. It began with his old book and then he found a dusty violin in Nero’s flat. It was once used for The Order’s mass but for a reason it ended up there. Not used but fully functional.

A certain urge made him to pick it up once and try playing on it. The first results were rather poor, which was not surprising. No decent notes could be made but that was not really that discouraging. On his free time and when ensured he was really alone, he practiced – or maybe just did it to soothe himself. Vergil lacked good words for explaining what attracted him to that idea in the first place.

As the time passed the skills obviously improved and felt strangely connected to that object. It seemed marked by his own demonic aura for unknown but intriguing him reasons. Now he felt confident enough to come out with his silly, secret interest by presenting a little birthday gift for all of them.

“You will see.” Vergil replied and adopted a pose indicating he was ready to actually play a certain tune on that instrument.

Dante was not sure if he should be surprised by this or be in some ways amused how much his older brother had changed… or how much he had hidden from the others. But then when the actual tune was played and the first notes were heard – that hit him hard – the song instantaneously recognized by him. Nero on the other hand just listened a little pleased seeing his small smirk, which was indicative of his interest to watching his own father playing on an instrument – something he had never even suspected him of doing – and enjoying the song itself.

Nero was clueless of its true meaning for Dante and even Vergil. That was why Dante’s expression quickly shifted from his a little sarcastic smirk to slightly wide open eyes. When was the last time he had heard this song? He remembered it hearing to be sung by his own mother either hummed while she had been busy with her duties or while putting her boys to sleep. Sometimes it was sung to soothe the nightmares of one of their sons. Nothing else that song could bring up but all of these warm and joyful memories, but memories, which were gone forever with no way to bring that back.

It was both touching and painful to hear for Dante and that pain in the chest could be clearly felt. He wanted to be happy for these good moments he associated it with but he could not help the tears welling up in his eyes. He did everything to mask that from Nero standing nearby. Fortunately his attention was fully drawn to just Vergil playing. How did this guy manage to keep his face straight while doing so? Perhaps not his first time simply hearing that on his violin.

Vergil’s face was surely kept very composed but it did not take away the fact this song had a similar meaning to him as to Dante. He was surely happy to have a some kind of family once again but still saddened for what had been lost. Saddened their mother would never hear him playing this song to her while already old. Saddened how his fate turned out to be. He wished he could go back in time and fix everything he had done. The path he had chosen was his biggest mistake.

The last notes made of these delicate and precise little moves of bow brought a wonderful end to that charming tune. The tears were successfully overcome by Dante, though the reddish color of his eyes told very clearly that at some point he was at the verge of tears. To mask that as best as he could the known smirk formed in his face and decided to take a comment on his older brother’s performance.

“Well, well, brother. Who would have guesses you can be actually so talented.” He even gave a proper applause which Nero joined.

Vergil bowed to his small audience and gave a small smile both to himself and the ones appreciating that little break for a song.

“I really like that. But you know. I think I have heard it somewhere. I probably do from time to time.” Nero spoke.

Vergil’s attention was fully drawn by what his son had said. His brow rose highly curious.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I just hear that certain lady hums that melody to herself. It really sounds similar to be honest.” His son continued not necessary that much interested. After all she was just one of the many women he had seen in Fortuna. Aside from the melody she always sang to herself there was nothing particular in her for Nero. 

Dante snorted at that knowing what was up.

“Oh well…” he wanted to comment something on Vergil’s “secrets” but resigned from doing so. That was not the best idea to bring up that topic to Nero. There was enough on his mind during that day. No reason to start another shitfest but related to his own father this time.

“What?” Nero could not ignore his uncle’s tone, which clearly indicated he wanted to say something more than he did.

Oh well, the kid could not know that yet. Let’s just dodge it in a convenient for him way, that was what Dante thought to himself while feeling the tension forming in him.

“Apparently it’s a popular song, right?”

“Well… Must be popular among certain people. Never heard it on the radio stations. I’ve only heard it hummed by that lady and now played by Vergil…” Nero wondered.

“This is… a traditional song more. Known only in the higher spheres.” Vergil joined the “dodge operation” even if his interest regarding that particular stranger woman was incredibly high at that moment. But the cost of obtaining more information was higher than profit itself. The child needed some explanation but not now. This should be put for the future since even he himself was not ready to speak about this complicated part of his story properly. The trauma this child was going through and now scratching the past wounds of his childhood was a very bady idea for such a day.

This should be rather expected that any part of this twisted past would bring up a lot of frustration to his son. Probably very much similar to the one, he had just witnessed with his talk with Dante. Vergil did not want that. But he was certain that the possibility of his past love being still alive and around that town would obsessively haunt his mind from that moment. He wanted to be certain that was her. If that was really her… how could he talk to her now? After all these years…

“Well, that may be true. Just thought that was an interesting coincidence…” Nero felt something was off about both his uncle’s and father’s behavior. They were so quick to explain something he legitimately thought was nothing interesting to pay attention to. But apparently two of them knew something more about that particular tune and connection to that woman. That rose his suspicion and interest. But he stopped himself from even trying to ask for more as he observed that strange reaction and tension around that topic.

His suspicios gaze wandered from Vergil to Dante and from Dante to Vergil, trying to find a clue. But there was nothing more than just Dante’s dumb smile and Vergil’s stoic mask covering his agitation and wondering. The shoots of their examining gazes stopped when out of blue Nico literally kicked the door open screaming in an exciting way, while having a bunch of Devil Breakers taken with her and the Red Queen fixed after it shattered from that incredible force of Gilver’s power.

“The demons need some ass-kicking!” then she threw the sword at Nero, who fortunately caught it instantly despite being rather immersed in his family gathering more.

That was a surprising but convenient interruption of this intriguing atmosphere, which was making Nero to dwell on what Dante and Vergil were hiding from him. Nonetheless that talk could wait. Even he did not feel ready for this whatever he expected that secret to be.

The day would not be like any other without spilling some annoying demons’ blood. That was exciting to join in hunting them down with his uncle and now his father.

Dante and Vergil both relieved the kid would not keep digging what they did not want to tell (yet). In a sense this was interesting for Vergil to have his secret covered by his foolish brother, who usually loved to teased him, out him. Maybe that was entirely a selfless act of good from Dante – the possible drama just had to be stopped before it could start even if it would not primarly involve him.

Dante’s sword materialized in his hand and leaned it on his back, approaching the door. Vergil just grabbed the Yamato, which had been left nearby for a moment of his humble performance. Incredibly happy that the time did not have to be spent on emotionally draining talk and instead had another opportunity make stylish swings of his sword in the air - Dante was almost bouncing as he was nearly running.

Vergil’s annoying little brother was about to speak that word. Vergil could feel it coming with his whole body. That j-word was about to be produced by that insufferable mouth of Dante’s.

“Don’t dare you say it!” said by both Vergil and Nero at the same exact moment. None of them expected to speak this all at once. They looked at each other astonished and then laughed together. Dante, who was at the front of that little group turned around similarly astounded. His mouth had almost formed itself to pronounce the first letter of that forbidden word and he found this unanimous protest equally hilarious, joining them with their good laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that the song played by Vergil was just this one: https://youtu.be/pytZGFQyPVU  
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The fic is complete but still open for a continuation. I apologize for that horrible Nero's mother tease. I promise I will move that topic in another fic connecting to this one but I hope it won't be as long as this one because this one took me 5 months to write (since 13th of July til basically now). Now exams are coming but don't see it as something what closes the possibility of writing that continuation. Actually when I started writing this fic I was in the middle of really serious exams (which I successfully passed) so I'd say such a time always inspires me because reading all of these academic books make me look for reasons not to check them ever again! XD  
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Also did Vergil finally turn into Dadgil? I kinda tried but it was not easy without proper built up and character development. While I don't think he redeemed himself but he is working towards it though!


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